Fights, Failures and Flagstaff
by Smudge93
Summary: What happened before, during and after Flagstaff. A tag to Dark Side of the Moon and my own story A Happy Remembrance.
1. Chapter 1

Okay so I found this when trying to rescue files from my PC. It is a tag to Dark Side of The Moon and my own story, A Happy Remembrance. It's a what happened before, during and after Flagstaff. I was going to make it another chapter to AHR but I like that as it is on it's own. So, this is the lead up to and the disappearance of, Sam.

Should go up in one or two parts. Mary x

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><p><span>Memories of Flagstaff.<span>

Sam slammed out of the school, Evan Burke and his pack close on his heels. "Oh look Sam, there's your _big brother_ waiting to take you home. Can't have you walking home on your own now can we?"

There was a little burst of laughter.

"Awfully close for brothers there Sam? Sure there ain't something that you want to tell us?"

Another burst of laughter and Sam prayed that Dean's music was loud enough to cover the next remark. "He's real pretty for guy."

Dean's head turned towards them. Sam cursed and lengthened his stride. Snorts and giggles followed him this time. Someone pushed him but he kept his balance. "For a brother he sure doesn't look like you, sure he's not your sugar daddy? You been giving it up there _Sammy_?"

That and the use of his hated nickname did it. Sam stopped short and Evan ran into his back. Turning the younger Winchester screamed in his tormentor's face. "What's your problem Burke? You jealous 'cos your family don't give a rat's ass about you?"

"Fuck you Winchester." Evan pushed him hard and Sam stumbled back.

Dean was out of the car. Sam could hear the protest from the doors and he turned, protest of his own ready to defuse his brother's involvement which was probably only going to make matters worse.

"What's up Sam?" Dean stepped up and slightly in front of his brother.

"Nothing." He grabbed Dean's sleeve and turned, tried to pull his brother away.

"Doesn't look like nothing." Dean's voice was quiet and calm and it raised every hair on Sam's neck.

"Come on. They're just assholes."

Sam tried again to budge the solid mass that was his seventeen year old brother and failed.

Dean swiped his hand off and stepped forward, Sam taking a moment of joy from the worried look that now sat on Evan's face.

The left side of Dean's face was covered in bruises. It added a mean edge to his brother's usually delicate, good looks. Those and his bandaged right hand were courteousy of two guys in a bar. His hand they had closed in a door after they'd taken exception to him hustling them at pool.

"You touch my brother again and we're going to have a problem. Do you hear me?," the elder Winchester growled right in the face of his brother's tormentor.

Evan nodded.

"Didn't hear you."

"Yes."

Dean leant in closer. "Yes what?"

Evan looked at him blankly for a second and then got it. "Yes, sir," he spat out.

"Dean." Sam tried to call his brother off, this time glad that Dean turned towards him. "Come on. Just leave it. Please."

The please did the trick, Dean turning away and putting a guiding hand on the back of Sam's jacket.

Until Evan's mouth decided that it had a death wish. "Might have well have come up and pee'd on him."

Dean swivelled back, hand snaking out Cobra like and catching the boy's shirt. Blood oozed through the bandages at the tightness of the grip. "What did you say?" His voice was a hiss and Sam was torn between letting Dean knock the crap out of the boy or pulling him off.

"Dean," he begged. "Leave it."

His brother though dragged Evan into him. "You really need to watch that mouth or I'm gonna slap the smart ass right out of it, you hear me?"

Sam was looking at his brother but the words and the tone of voice were pure John Winchester. The words Sam had heard spoken to Dean himself in that tone on the few occasions when his mouth had gotten the better of his senses during a rare and usually ugly John and Dean argument. Only difference was John would never raise his hands to them in anger, whereas Dean was almost certain to carry through on his threat to Evan.

"Boys?" The teacher's voice cut open the crowd that had gathered. "Is there a problem here?"

Dean look up at her, opened his hand and smoothed down the front of Evan's shirt just a little too roughly causing the boy to step back.

"Not if you do your job and keep him the hell away from my brother."

The teacher looked startled at the venom in the tone and Sam latched onto Dean's sleeve and pulled. "Come on. Don't start anything, not with Dad not here."

Dean tensed at that, reason seeping into his eyes as he looked at Sam. "Get in the car." He pushed Sam in front of him and rounded the car as the teacher recovered. "Where do you think you are going?," she directed at Dean.

He shot her his most dangerous smile, a loose easy grin that had her and Evan stepping back. "Home." He pointed at Evan. "Remember, you stay away from him."

With that he got in the car and peeled her away from the kerb, dust and small stones rising from the road in her wake and showering the watching crowd. Sam turned back round in his seat and sighed, not sure if he was thrilled at the moment that Dean was his brother or just really, really annoyed by it.

By the time they hit the highway he'd settled on annoyed. He turned his anger and embarrassment at Dean's rescue back on him. "I don't need anyone to watch me, I can take care of myself," he griped as he flung his school bag over the seat back and onto the back seat. "I don't need you to baby sit me to and from school."

Dean sighed and turned to him with a long suffering look on his face. "Looked that way."

Sam huffed loudly.

"Dad said that I have to get you from school Sam. It'll be my ass if something happens to you on the way home and I'm sitting cooling my heels."

"_Dad said_," Sam mimicked in a whiney voice. "I'm thirteen for Christ's sake. At that age you were looking after both of us on your own."

"Lucky me and watch your mouth, or I might just slap the smart ass outta you instead."

Sam snorted. "Like to see you try," he muttered low so that Dean wouldn't catch it. "I can look after myself," he informed his brother more loudly.

Dean's knuckles gripped the steering wheel so tight that they were white. "Well you ain't getting to cause I got orders which say no, you can't."

"Forgot, you're the good little soldier son."

Dean punched him on the arm for that. "One of us has to be."

Sam rubbed at his arm but didn't hit Dean back, not in the mood that Sam was putting him in. He was angry not suicidal. "Want me to prove it to you?," Sam challenged him.

"No, what I want is you to shut the hell up, let me get us home and then let me see if I can find something for us to eat in the shithole that laughing passes as our apartment."

Sam knew that Dean was close to loosing it with him but still he pushed on. "I mean, take tonight. My friends are all going to the cinema but I can't."

"God, Sam. We have been over this already. You're not going, so drop it."

"Says who?"

"ME!" Dean threw the car into the space outside the apartment. "Now get in the damn house." He didn't wait for Sam just got out of the car. Sam fetched his bag and got out, slamming his own door for good measure. Dean's face was enough to get him heading for the door without another word.

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><p>Once inside though he resumed his badgering of his brother. "I can take care of myself Dean. I don't need a guard dog." Sam threw his school bag down onto the little kitchen table and scowled at his big brother.<p>

Dean sighed and slammed the door hard as he walked in behind him. "Well Dad says different and you're not going. So stop whining like a little bitch and get your homework done." He didn't want to tell his brother that they had no money left whatsoever and he couldn't afford to let Sam go. Better his brother hated him for not letting him go than realise that their position was worse than it usually was. He turned and sighed heading for the fridge and hoping that something to eat other than the milk, cheese and eggs that had been there earlier had miraculously materialised. It hadn't.

Behind him Sam continued to grouse. "Shithead," he mumbled lowly under his breath but loud enough so Dean would still hear. Raising his voice he looked at his brother. "It's only the pictures. What the hell is going to happen there, especially when there'll be eight of us?"

"No Sam. There'll be seven of you, because you aren't going. Full stop. End of discussion." He held up the eggs in his good hand. "Cheese omelette?"

Sam's huffed so hard that his hair shifted. "Again?"

Dean's patience was almost gone. His hand, face and his back, that he'd hurt in a bar fight over a pool hustle the weekend before, were aching like a bitch. Sam's bitching and the fact that the last of the painkillers were long gone had almost pushed him to the edge. "Dad'll be home in a couple of days. Can't you cut me some slack until then? Just do as your damn well told for once?"

Sam looked at his brother, knew that he should give him the requested and well deserved slack that Dean had asked him for. Dean looked stressed and tired and he was still favouring his injuries. The younger brother debated his answer, knowing that things were tight and Dean was worrying about feeding them, paying the rent and the fact that Dad was already three days late. Still, he was angry at the world in general and, at this moment, his brother in particular. "No!" he finally shouted and stormed off, slamming the bedroom door so hard that the walls of the cheap apartment shook.

Dean turned and rested against the counter, wanting to throw the food in his hands at the wall and vent some of his own frustration. Instead he took a deep breath, juggled the pan onto the heat and started dinner.

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><p>Dean sighed as he heard his brother getting up in the next room. He'd tried to be quiet, tried to avoid having Sam ask him questions that he just couldn't answer and hit him with that look when he found out that he was getting left on his own. Dean hated leaving his brother; more so in this crappy apartment, but needs must and even this place was preferable to the streets or sleeping in the car in early March. With his hand bust like it was there was only one way that Dean knew of to make some quick money even though the very thought of it turned his stomach. Still, needs must.<p>

The bedroom door opened and his younger brother stepped out into the living area, blinking in the harsh light from the bare overhead bulb. The scowl appeared the instant that he saw that Dean was dressed and wearing his jacket. "You're shitting me right? I can't go out but you can? Where are you going?," he demanded.

"Out, I got some things to take care of."

"I'll come with you." Sam turned to go back into the bedroom but Dean moved forward and stopped him with a hand to his arm.

"No, you can't," he replied a little too sharply causing Sam to prickle further.

"Why not?," the younger brother huffed.

"Because I said so." Dean cut off his brother's reply with a hand. "You just can't Sam, okay? Listen, I'll be an hour tops. Just stay here, lock the door and get to sleep." Sam's eyes flashed angrily at him and Dean sighed and rubbed at his forehead with his good hand. It did nothing to dispel his lingering headache or the furious look on his younger brother face. "Please?"

"So I can't go to the pictures with my friends in the afternoon because it's too dangerous, but you can sneak out at," Sam glanced at his watch, "…eleven at night and it's okay for me to be left _here _on my own?" Sam looked round the small apartment with disgust. "Talk about double standards."

"Sam, it's not like that," Dean started but his brother interrupted him.

"It's a girl isn't it? You're going out to bang some random chick and leaving me here on my own when you're supposed to be watching me." He watched as the dig hit home with his brother.

"Sam….," Dean tried again.

"Fine, you're right. I am big enough to look after myself. I don't need you or anyone else to do it. Just go!" Sam stomped off back to the bedroom. "And I'm telling Dad!" The door got slammed hard enough this time for the sole picture that passed as the dingy hovel's only decoration fell and smashed on the floor.

Dean stood there, torn between going to make his peace with his brother or going to make sure that they would both still have a roof over their heads in the morning. He could hear the conversation in his head. _Sam, want to come see if I can sell myself on the streets for an hour to see if I can make enough money to pay the rent and feed us until dad decides to show his face? If he shows his face?_ Yeah maybe better just to leave that conversation unsaid and just go, let his brother simmer down on his own.

With one last look at the closed bedroom door he headed out.

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><p>Dean got home at one in the morning, frozen to the core and riding a wave of sickness that had been threatening to explode since he'd got the knees of his jeans wet for the first time that night. He took a quick check on Sam; the covers bundled up over his brother's head, and then grabbed his sweats and a clean t-shirt and headed for the bathroom. He put his hard earned two hundred dollars on the shelf and dropped to his knees for the final time that night. Hunching over the toilet bowl he used his fingers to make himself sick, needing to get what wanted to come up, up. Then, he thought, he'd get washed, brush his teeth and crash for a few hours before having to get up early and go get them something decent to eat and himself some painkillers.<p>

After that? He'd go and stick old man Greave's weekly rent in his face.

Though he wanted to he didn't stay in the shower long, not wanting to wake his brother with the pipes that he knew would rattle if he was in there longer than ten minutes. He'd clean up properly in the morning. Slipping out of the bathroom he dropped himself onto his bed and tried to will himself to sleep. Closing his eyes and sighing deeply he rolled over onto his good side and curled himself into a ball.

The silence that fell on the room after he stopped moving made him sit up again and stare over at his brother's bed. He listened carefully; sure that he had just missed it the first time but still the silence taunted him.

Standing, Dean slowly walked over to Sam's bed and eased the covers back, realising then why he couldn't hear his brother breathing. Dad's pillows where tucked up in Sam's bed but Sam wasn't. On top of the pillows was a note that when he picked it up and read it made Dean's blood chill in his veins.

Sam's scrawl boldly stated – _**You're wrong Dean. I can look after myself. Watch me prove it.**_

"**Stupid, pigheaded, sonuvabitch!"** Dean screamed the curse at the empty room, fighting down the panic that was rising in him. Marching over to the cupboard in the room that passed as their wardrobe he flung open the door to find only his duffle and his clothes on the shelf. He snatched a pair of jeans and quickly changed into them, shoved his bare feet into his boots and grabbed his gun and his jacket from the kitchen.

He paused by the phone, not sure if he wanted to make this call just now or wait to see if his brother was just screwing around with him. Sam's safety though was what mattered and that thought had him reaching for the phone. He was almost glad when it went straight to voicemail.

"Dad?," he started. "It's me, Dean." _Yeah like he ain't gonna know that. Spit it out Winchester! _"Sam's booked on me. I'm going out to look for him so can you just get back here, please? I need your help. I'm going out now to see if I can track him down so you won't be able to get me." He paused. "I got this dad, I promise. I'll find him okay?" He put the phone down and then he started the most important hunt he knew that he would ever go on.

The one for his brother.

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for all the lovely reviews and the alerts that have been put on this story. So it's going to be longer than two chapters! Shocking I know. lol

Dean was sitting at the little kitchen table in their shabby apartment, days of searching for Sam and the silence from his father weighing on him. He was cold, tired and scared sick for his brother. Looking at the phone on the table he willed it to ring, for either of his family to call, but it sat there openly mocking him in it's silent refusal to do so. "I won't be mad. I promise," he whispered to it. "Just call and tell me where you are. Please."

He slid the folded map that lay beside him nearer thinking that he could chose an area and just work from there. With his searching proving fruitless he was torn between widening his search area and not leaving the apartment too long in case Sam called for help or came back. Looking at all the neighbouring towns he realised the futility of his new idea. Sam could be anywhere, in any one of them and Dean didn't have a damn clue of even the direction to start looking in. Dropping his head hard on the table top he sighed.

His stomach grumbled lowly reminding him that he hadn't eaten in two days just as a yawn snuck up on him. He knew that he needed to sleep too, hadn't much since he'd found Sam's note. His body craved it but his mind wouldn't allow it. Pushing his tiredness and hunger aside he wracked his brains and desperately tried to think again of any other place that his brother could be, of somewhere he could have missed.

That's when he heard it.

The growl that announced the arrival of John's truck in the carpark.

His head shot up and he rose to his feet, chair clattering to the floor as he did. _Dad's here he'll know what to do_ vied with the, _oh __**shit**__, Dad's here_ thought in his head. He wasn't sure whether to stand his ground or get his ass out of Dodge while it was still in one piece.

Dean didn't get time to move further before the door slammed opened and he was back pedalling, trying to keep his feet even as John shoved him back, slamming him against the wall of the apartment. _Guess you got my message, _Dean though wryly as John's fist tightened round his shirt.

"Report!," His father barked at him.

He tried to get a breath to get the words out. "He took his stuff and just booked. I can't find him, I've looked everywhere….he's just, he's just….gone."

"How'd he get away from you? How long's he been gone? **Why the **_**hell**_** weren't you watching him!**" John hissed the last part, spit landing on Dean's face as he did. He caught the tiny flicker of guilt and maybe something else in Dean's eyes.

"Six days sir….I….it was late and I wasn't gone that long….I thought he was gonna go back to sleep… but we'd had a fight and he…he….he bailed on me." Dean's voice tailed off in a hitch of breath and he fought the tears that threatened to form, the strain of the last few days and the relief that at least now his father was here threatening to overwhelm him.

"_Did you leave your brother here__ alone at night?"_ John almost spat the words out. His son nodded and the elder man had to resist the urge to slap him. Still Dean flinched and John wasn't sure if it was at the words, the tone or if he had read his father's original intent as he raised his free hand and thumped it into the wall by Dean's head. Flakes of dry wall drifted down onto Dean's shoulder and John watched them, counting the seconds until he was calm enough to talk again. He raised his eyes and locked stares with his eldest. "Define bailed?" The answer was too long in coming and he shook Dean hard. "Talk to me! Tell me what the hell happened!"

"I wouldn't let him go out with his friends and then I had to go out and that got him pissed at me. When I got back he was gone. He left this." Dean dug the note Sam had left out of his pocket with trembling hands. John briefly registered how cold Dean's touch was as he snatched it and read it. "I looked for him right away…..I've looked everywhere I can think of…..twice…," Dean's voice trailed off into a soft 'oomph' and it was only then that John realised he had shoved him back again as he'd read the note.

"Why did you leave him?"

His son looked down and away. "I had something I had to do. I told him to get back to bed….."

"What did you have to do?" John watched as Dean focused his eyes away from him onto the wall of the kitchen. He thumped Dean back against the wall again, not as hard as he wanted to but hard enough to pull a grunt of pain from him. "Answer me!" He took a deep, calming breath and forced himself to ease the pressure on his son's chest as Dean's breath stuttered and he dropped his chin down onto the top of John's fist, tears finally escaping and dripping down on the hand that held him against the wall.

"It was nothing…."

John's knuckled popped as his grip tightened again. "For your sake…," he started moving in so that his mouth was right next to Dean's ear, "…..it better not have been _nothing_ for you to even_ consider_ leaving your brother alone here!" John forced Dean's head up again, catching it in his free hand to make his son look at him. The guarded look made John's temper rise again. "So what is this? You drop the ball on me again Dean? Is this Fort Douglas all over again?" He watched the jab hit home harder than any punch he could have dealt would. Taking little satisfaction from it he went for another hit. "Was that it Dean? Did you get bored watching your brother? Was it too much effort so you went out looking for something….or someone…..better to do?"

There was a quick look of something – shame, embarrassment, fear – in Dean's eyes that John didn't quite catch and wasn't sure that he liked then it was gone. "No sir. I needed to get us some money….." Dean tried to turn his head again but John stopped him.

"That how you hurt your hand?"

A look almost like relief settled on his son's face and the "Yes sir." that followed was a little too quick. John registered the lie but let it slide, he had more important things to worry him right now. Pushing Dean back against the wall for a final time John let him go and turned for the bedroom. He had to get Dean out of his sight before he did the one thing that he'd swore he would never do but was sailing close to. His fists itched and his temper was boiling inside him. Mad as he was at his son he didn't want him to be the vent for the eruption building inside him because he knew if he started he wasn't going to be able to stop. Quickly finding what he wanted and returning to the main room of the apartment he looked away as Dean's eyes widened and stuck on the duffle that John carried in his hand.

"You got your gun?," John asked as he dropped the duffle at Dean's feet.

"Yes sir." There was a shake in the voice.

John dug into his back pocket and freed forty dollars from his money clip. He took Dean's gun, checked it and pulled his son's hand up. Slapping the gun and the money into it he grabbed the duffle thrusting it into Dean's arms and grabbed his collar. Then he dragged his son across the floor and flung open the door. Leaning in he took a deep breath. "I trusted you with him Dean and that's twice you've failed me now. There isn't gonna be a third time. Is that clear?"

He felt the nod of his son's head against him.

Putting his hand to Dean's chest he pushed him back through the open door and out into the rain and the wind of the night. "You come back here with your brother or don't you bother coming back at all. My phone's in the bag, you call me when you find him." Dean noted the when not if; failure not an option for John but then it wasn't one for Dean either. "Yes,sir." He managed to force the words out as John slammed the door in his son's shocked face.

Once closed John collapsed against it, tears of rage and worry duelling as they rolled down his face. "Goddamn you Dean!" He pulled back his fist and did what he'd wanted to do since he'd stepped into the room. He punched something. Drywall went flying as he smashed his fist straight through the wall of the bedroom that was next to the door, blood trailing his knuckles as he pulled his hand free. Not taking time to wrap it he walked to the phone and started calling in favours.

Dean stood for a minute on the stoop of the apartment too shell shocked to move. He'd screwed up. He'd lost Sam and now he'd lost the little bit of respect and trust that John had afforded him back after Fort Douglas. He shrugged his duffle onto his shoulder and wiped at the tears on his face. He had to find Sam. Sticking his hand into his pocket he realised that the keys to the Impala were still lying on the table in the small kitchen where John was. "Great," he muttered as he pulled up his collar and stepped out into the violence of the night. "Just great."

He stopped at the mini-market and got a coffee before he wandered back along to where the boys that he had been with the other night were; camped out on the street corner down from the local bar. He been by twice already this week and Max, the only one that would talk to him, smiled wryly as he approached. His eyes took in the coffee, the bag and the dejected look that Dean wore. "Take it you didn't find him yet?"

Dean shook his head and handed the other boy the coffee. "You hear anything?"

Max held out his cigarette to him in exchange and motioned for Dean to move under the small shelter of the doorway that he standing in. "Nope. Asked around but none of the other guys have seen anyone matching your brother near here. That's good though right? You wouldn't want him to be here would you?"

Dean shook his head again and took a long drag on the cigarette. "I gotta find him."

"Your old man make it back yet?"

"Yeah. He's not too happy with me at the minute," Dean snorted and motioned to his bag.

"He chuck you out?"

"Only until I find my brother and then I'm probably gonna wish he had," he answered, handing the cigarette back and stepping back out into the rain. "I gotta go. You've got the number to call if you see or hear anything?"

"I got it." He raised his hand and Dean bumped fists with him. "He'll come back on his own. You'll see," he called after Dean as he turned and started to walk away.

Dean just waved a hand in acknowledgement and set off again to check the construction sites on the edge of the town. It's where he would go so he figured it was worth a shot checking them again. As he walked he could still see the anger and disappointment in his father's face as he had slammed the door on him and it caused an ache in his chest that made him want to just pull his gun out and end it, right here, right now. Sam needed him though, his brother wasn't safe at home like he should be and it was his fault. Head buzzing with thoughts of where his brother was and what could happen to him he picked up his pace and headed out along the main road.

Dean came up bust again at the construction sites, the photo that he passed around earning shakes of the head from the few guys that he hadn't talked to before. He walked on down to where there was a truck stop and spent an hour moving between the trucks, knocking on doors and showing the photo he had.

The light was starting to fade fast from the sky now and he knew that he'd have to find somewhere to hole up for the night. There were a few trucks that were obviously parked for the night, one rear door open and caught back to show that their inside were empty. Making up his mind that one of those would do, dry at least if not warm, he headed in their direction.

"What are you up to?"

Dean turned at the sound of the voice to find an older man, one of the truckers coming towards him.

"Nothing, I was just…..,"

"I know what you were just doing," the trucker cut him off. "You kids, always stealing or stowing away. Well you ain't doing it on my rig again, you hear me? I ain't getting caught for a second time this week so beat it!" He waved his arms at Dean, the younger man already having noticed the bat that the guy was carrying.

"I was just looking for a place to crash, wasn't looking to stow or steal," Dean offered, holding up his hands to placate the man. "I'll go; I'm not looking for any trouble."

"That'll be a first. You tell the rest to stay the hell away from here!," the man shouted, stopping at the end of what Dean presumed was his rig and leaning against it. "I ain't giving any more of you a free ride!"

Dean started to back off, already thinking of alternative places that he could crash at that would keep him out of the rain. It struck him just as the man turned his back on him and started back to his cab. "Wait!," he called, starting forward again even as the trucker turned back towards him with a frown on his face and the bat coming up to rest in his free hand. "So did someone stow away in your truck this week?," he asked, a little glimmer of hope building in him as the man's frown deepened.

"What if they did?"

"My brother went missing this week. I was trying to find him, asked a few other drivers but no one had seen him."

The man raised an eyebrow. "This brother, what's he look like?" The bat dropped again to rest at his side.

"Little smaller and fatter than me, dark hair, brown eyes," Dean offered, biting hopefully at his lip.

"You got a photo?"

Digging in his duffle pocket Dean pulled out the only photo he had that was about a year old and handed it out to the trucker. The man took the picture from his hand and studied it more closely than the others. "Why'd he run?," he asked, raising his eyes to look Dean over.

Dean did his own best version of Sam's puppy dog eyes. "We had a fight, a stupid, stupid fight. He bailed on me and now I gotta find him. Please, if you've seen him…" He bit his lip again as he watched the trucker's reaction.

The man pushed his cap back on his head "How old's he?"

"He's only thirteen."

The man nodded at that something close to a wry smile on his face. "And how old are you?"

"Seventeen."

The trucker gave the picture a second look, drawing out Dean's agony. "Where's your folks?"

"Our mom's dead, dad's out looking for him too. We split to cover more ground." _Too much information,_ Dean's head screamed at him. _He could be a mass murderer for all you know asshole! He could know where Sam is!_, his inner voice argued with itself.

"Didn't think he looked sixteen."

Dean's ears perked at that. "You've seen him? Talked to him?" This was his first lead in three days and he felt as if the guy had just given him the winning lottery numbers. _Careful_, the voice chided. _Too eager Dean, the guy could be playing you! _

"Yup, found him stowed in the trailer at Holbrook."

A knot formed in Dean's throat, choked sob escaping him. "Was he okay?"

"Far as I could see, stole some tins and bottled water from my rig though."

"I can pay you back for that if you want me to," Dean offered taking a deep breath to steady the giddy feeling inside him. "When was this?" He was already reaching into his duffle for the phone.

"Tuesday night."

"Thanks." He held out a hand, the trucker eyeing it before taking it.

"I got two little brothers, I hope you find him."

"Thanks, me too." Dean turned to head back the way he came but the man stopped him, coming after him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Listen, I'm going that way today, if you need a lift?"

Dean hesitated. He knew he should go back and get John but the thought of sitting in the car with his father for even that short journey had him risking it with the trucker. Besides, going back to get John would waste time that Dean wasn't sure that he had. "That'd be great!" He smiled at the guy and then rounded the cab, welcoming the feeling of protection given to him by the touch of his Colt against his skin as he climbed into the cab.

As the truck pulled out onto the road though there was only one thought in his head, playing on a loop as he watched the big rig eat up the miles between them. _I'm coming Sammy, wherever you are, I'm coming. _

_TBC_


	3. Chapter 3

Hey there. Did I really say that this would only be one or two chapters? Shouldn't have read it over because now I've mucked about with it. Ah well.

Thank you for the reviews and all the alerts that have gone on this story. Glad you guys are enjoying it. Mary x

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><p>"<em>Sam<em>_!" Dean called out his brother's name running towards the figure that was lying curled in a ball on the ground. He dropped to his knees beside it, the scream catching in his throat as a hand shot up, reaching for him. Sam's fist caught in Dean's shirt and pulled him down into a crouch over his fallen brother. "Help me," Sam uttered and Dean slipped a hand round his brother's neck, pulling him up and then drawing him to him until Sam's weight was lying against him. The coldness of Sam's skin chilled him where it touched his own. "Sammy?" Lifting his brother's head Dean tried to get Sam to look at him but his eyes had a cold, dead stare to them. His father's voice caused him to turn, Dean watching as John approached, grief written over his face. "I told you to watch him Dean," his father uttered in a whispered, bitter, half choke. "Why didn't you watch him?" _

_Turning back to his brother Dean caught Sam's head as it rolled back on his shoulders, righting it and bringing it level with his own. "It's all your fault Dean," Sam said softly, blood seeping from his dead eyes to trail his face. "I'm dead and it's all your fault. What are you going to do about it?" John's hand landed on his shoulder and Dean jerked at the touch, Sam's head lolling down and against the side of Dean's neck. _

_"No!" He screamed the word out even as his brother's blood dripped down and stained his hands. _

"No!"

"Kid?" Someone was shaking him and it took Dean a moment to realise that he'd been dreaming, although the weight of his brother against him still felt all to real as he tried to open his eyes and focus. He wiped his hands against the top of his thighs to try and get rid of the feeling of Sam's blood dripping on them.

Slowly he started to come to and then it started to hit him fully that he had fell asleep. The tiredness that had been threatening to swamp him for days had finally caught him and he hadn't been able to fight it. He'd damn well fell asleep in the cab of a truck driven by some guy that he didn't even know the name of. John would kill him if he found out; not that Dean was stupid enough to tell his father and add this to the already long line of screw ups that his dad had marked against him.

The guy touched his arm again and Dean jerked away as if it had burned him.

"Don't touch me," he hissed watching the driver through still half opened lids, the dream refusing to let him shake it completely.

"Hey, easy now." The rig was riding the shoulder, Dean could tell by the change in the feel of the ride, the big truck kicking up dust as it slowed. "You okay? You were calling out in your sleep." The trucker had retreated to his own side, both hands back on the wheel as he eased the rig to a halt. Trying to get a grip back on reality, Dean shoved himself upright from his slumped position against the door looking away from the look of concern that was in the older man's eyes. "You scared the crap outta me kid, almost put us off the road when you started screaming like that."

"Sorry. Nightmare." Dean wiped a hand down his face and reached for the door handle. "Look its okay, you can just drop me here."

A hand landed on his shoulder. "Like hell I will." A bottle was held out in front of him. "Take a drink and a minute to get your head on straight."

Dean took the bottle but didn't drink relaxing a little as the trucker moved away from him again and restarted the engine.

"Ain't poisoned you know," the guy offered as he waited for a car to go by and then pulled back out onto the road.

Dean looked at the bottle trying to sort his thoughts. The silence hung in the air between them as he did until the man finally broke it.

"Dreaming about your brother?"

Turning his head Dean switched his stare from the bottle to the man next to him. "What? How did you…..?"

"You were calling out a name, Sam, well screaming it would be more like it. Take it that's your brother." The trucker shot him another quick look. "Kid's gonna be okay, from what I saw of him, he looked like he could handle himself."

"He can. Dad taught us both how to look after ourselves."

"Guess you do that a lot, look after yourself." The guy gave him a look over and then turned away as Dean scowled at him.

"Dad looks after us just fine," he answered defensively causing the guy to chuckle.

"Yeah, I bet he does. Had me a dad like that too. Did what he could but it wasn't ever enough."

"It's not like that."

The trucker just nodded. "That why you've been on this rig two hours and he ain't called you on that cell phone I saw you looking at to check you're okay? That why you didn't bother to call him before you climbed on board?" Dean went to say something but the guy waved him off. "Your brother bailed on your watch." It wasn't a question. Dean nodded. "So naturally your dad blames you because you're the older one. I get it. Like I said I got younger brothers, been there, done that."

"I'm gonna find my brother," Dean stated with a conviction that had the trucker look back at him.

"Sound sure."

"I am."

"I hope you're right kid, I really do" The rig started to slow as they passed Holbrook's town marker. "I should have got you to call your old man before we quit town. No matter what, the man's gonna be worried, what with both sons in the wind now."

Dean snorted and then coughed to cover it. "Like you said I gotta a cell phone; I can get in touch when I find Sam." Dean checked the phone in his hand, realised that it was off. _Another black mark for me,_ he thought as he switched it on and noted the missed calls. "How much further?"

"Ten, twenty minutes or so to where I found him and he got away from me." He nodded towards Dean's phone. "Don't you think that you should call him now, just let him know where you are?"

_So that he can tear me a new one for hitching? Call him with nothing to report? No thanks. _Shaking his head Dean clutched the phone tightly and then shoved it back in his pocket. "Not 'til I find my brother. I'll call him when I've got Sam."

The trucker shrugged at that. "Okay. It's your call."

They fell into a silence after that, Dean trying to get a plan of action ready for when he was dropped off and the trucker trying not to stare at the kid. He knew a hardship case when he saw it; it was why he'd thought Dean was trying to rip off the truck in the first place. Boy had a lean, hungry look about him that screamed of neglect to someone that had been on the receiving end himself. Now the brother, well the brother had been different, carrying a lot more weight on his frame for one thing, most likely at the expense of the kid sitting next to him. Who watches the watcher, he thought bitterly and sighed. Like he had said to the boy, he'd been there.

"Where are you gonna start looking for him?," he asked just for something to say.

Dean jerked again, startled out of his thoughts by the man's voice. "Don't know, just work my way out from where you dropped him, see if there's any place that I think he might head."

The trucker didn't say anything to that and they lapsed back into a silence as the rig ate up the last few miles and soon they were pulling into a Holbrook gas station. Killing the engine he turned to Dean. "Well, this is where I found him hiding in the trailer. Slipped my grip and took off in that direction." He pointed towards some fields that looked like they edged the town. "There's a bus station here, and a cheap motel if he had any money."

Dean face blanched at that.

"He bail empty?"

"Just some clothes as far as I know," Dean answered. _And a Taurus 92 9mm and my best hunting knife, for which I am going to royally kick his ass!_

Frank pondered that for a moment. "What about you, you flush?"

"Dad gave me some money before he…I left," Dean corrected himself but still, he saw the sympathy start to form in the guy's eyes and watched him reach for his billfold that was on the dash.

_Time to bail Dean._"Thanks for the ride."

"Name's Frank," the guy offered as he pulled a card from his bill fold, not the cash that Dean was by now expecting to be offered. "You call me if you find him. I'd like to know that you got him back safe and sound."

"Dean." Taking the card Dean shoved it in his pocket. "I will. Thanks again." Reaching for the door handle he opened the door and jumped down.

"Wait!" Dean stuck his head back in the door. "Give me the number of your phone, I'll be travelling local for the next ten days or so, I might see him." He threw a pen and another card over to Dean and he quickly noted down the cell number on the back before handing it back.

The trucker looked at the number and then leant over to Dean. "You tell your daddy to take better care of his boys," he called as Dean put a hand on the door and started to push it closed. "..and give that brother of yours a slap from me when you find him! Tell him to stay outta trucks, especially mine!"

Dean slammed the door and gave the man a thumbs up sign then stepped back as the rig pulled past him and out onto the road with a blast of its horn.

_Now what,_ his unhelpful inner voice asked as he shouldered his duffle and started off in the direction that Frank has indicated. "Follow the yellow brick road," he muttered to himself.

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><p>Sam watched as the last two workers exited the little hut that he'd made his home for the last few nights and made for their truck. He waited until the truck disappeared out the gates and round the bend and then he headed across the yard and up the steps. Checking for the night watchman, he pulled Dean's lock picks from his pocket and made quick work of the lock on the door. A little smile crossed his face as it swung open. <em>Need to show Dean that when I get back, <em>he thought.

The dog took him by surprise, appearing out of nowhere to be beside him as he stepped into the portacabin. It almost bowled him over in its eagerness to get inside with him, tail slapping his legs on the way by.

"Hey Bones!" Sam dropped his bag and reached down to scratch the dog behind the ears, laughing as it jumped up on him and started to bark. "Easy boy, need to keep quiet in case the watchman's about." He looked at the table in the room. "Left over pizza again. These guys eat like Dean. Come on then, you want some toppings, don't you?"

The dog yipped again and Sam patted his thigh for it to follow as he checked and grabbed the box and headed for the fridge. Opening it he pulled out the bottle of Pimms and then headed on through to the tiny bed area that was in the back. He propped himself up against the headboard and the dog jumped up and curled into his side. "This is the life Bones old boy, no one to tell me what or what not to do." Sam pulled his book from his backpack and took a slice of the cold pizza. "Now," he said opening the book to the page he was last at. "Where were we?" He took a bite of pizza and laughed as the dog let out a heart felt groan and rested its head on his knee. "Some watch dog you are," Sam chuckled and started to read out loud from the book. Less than an hour later he was sleeping.

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><p>Dean wished to hell that it would stop raining just for an hour or two. He'd been walking through what he could only describe as a damn monsoon and everything that he was wearing was soaked through.<p>

He still had the bother of needing to find somewhere to sleep or at least pass the night. It was now nearing midnight and the few shops and diners that he'd asked around in after Sam had drawn a blank. They were all closing or closed and his avenue of investigation was narrowing with every step that he took.

Walking past the bus station he thought for a minute of spending the night there but it would have drawn attention to him and he didn't want that. All he wanted was to find his brother and get the hell back to the apartment that a few hours ago he would have referred to as a hovel but had now taken on palatial status in his mind. Palatial that was to his present alternative. His search for somewhere to spend the night came up to a choice between an alley and well; nothing.

Sighing he slipped down the unlit corridor between a bar on one side and a closed up shop on the other. The shop had a deep back door recess and he said thanks for small mercies that this at least would keep the rain off him. He pulled the dumpster that was sitting off to one side over and in front of his new 'home' blocking him from the view of anyone that dared to wander down into the dark. He stripped all of his wet clothes off, freeing dry ones from his duffle and then balling the wet ones up inside. Getting changed he felt a little warmer without the dampness next to his skin. Dumping the duffle down so that the dry side that had been against his back was top side he lay down on it and pulled his soggy jacket over him.

He pulled his cell free still trying to decide if he should call his father or not. A lack of signal ended the debate for him. He was settling back down as he saw a light and then heard the voices. From the conversation he knew that it was a business transaction that was going down, people from the back door of the bar, and he tried to shut his ears to the noises that drifted to him, thankful that it wasn't him tonight on the other side of the dumpster.

Ignoring the aches and pains in his still sore side and hand his thoughts turned to his brother and he wondered if Sam's bed for the night was better, and safer, than his own. He hoped so. "'night Sam," he whispered as he settled down, "sleep tight." With that he shut his eyes and drifted slowly into a restless sleep.

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><p>John pulled back into the car park at the small set of apartments that they had been holed up in and frowned as he saw that the Impala was still sitting in the space outside the door. He had felt sure that as soon as he left Dean would have doubled back and picked up the car. The fact that he hadn't, well that worried John more than he would ever cared to admit. It meant that Dean wasn't thinking the way he would normally but then John knew that his son had to be tired. If John had hardly slept in the last few days then Dean would have slept even less, worry for Sam and of John's reaction would have driven him up to, and most likely past, his limits. Cursing his own actions now, driven by his bad temper, he climbed down and out the truck and made his way into the apartment.<p>

Picking up the phone he growled in frustration as the cell phone he had given to Dean went to voice mail. Damned new technology that only worked when it damn well felt like it. Slamming the receiver back on the cradle he headed for the bathroom, a quick splash of water on his face and he would be off again, his task now doubled as long as Dean remained out of contact.

He used the toilet and then moved over to the little sink, turning the taps and filling it with water. He raised his eyes to get the soap from the shelf when the bank notes lying there caught his eye. He picked them up, opening the notes out and looking at the condition of them. A little warning bell chimed in his head as he stared at the cash, the image of Dean's bruised and bandaged hand filling his head. A sudden urge to get the money out of his hand had him put it back on the shelf but he couldn't look away from it. So John stood and stared at the innocuous little bundle for a long minute before reaching for it again and shoving it into his pocket. Worry now was the blood in his veins. He tried Dean again and again got voice mail. "I'm gonna kill him if he's turned it off," he muttered as he settled down in the chair and lifted the receiver again.

John sat for half an hour and called round his contacts. There had been a few sightings of boys that matched Sam's general description but no positive identifications. Sighing he pulled the map to him and started to mark off the areas that he had already searched. There weren't enough of them for his liking, more still to be searched than he'd already managed. With that happy thought he hit the phone again, call after fruitless call raising his irk at Dean for a second time. He was finishing this, deciding to head out again despite the lateness of the hour, when the phone rang. "Dean?," he queried as he snatched the receiver up.

"Nope, S'Bobby. Dean still out looking?"

John hesitated. Bobby would eat him alive if he told the older hunter than he'd tossed Dean out to search and even more so if he revealed the ultimatum that he had given his son as he had. "Yeah."

"So, any news?"

"No. Checked with a couple of guys that I know but nothing concrete and nothing near enough to here."

Bobby cleared his throat. "Well, I might have something. Friend of mine saw a boy that could've been Sam arguing with a trucker before taking off. Could be nothing but it's close to were you are so I thought I'd give you a heads up."

"Where?" John was already stuffing the map in his pocket and snagging his keys from the table.

"Holbrook, one town over. John? John? Damn it man." Bobby realised that John had got the name of the town and hung up. "You're welcome," he muttered into the phone and then hung up and went back to work on a hunt of his own.

John dialled Dean again; voice mail again. He left a short curt message informing his son that he'd damn well better call him back as soon as he got this message and hung up. John stood there for a minute or two, staring at the phone. When it refused to ring the way he wanted he turned on his heel and headed out. He took the Impala, a sudden need to have some tangible connection to his boys filling him. The car smelt of Dean's lousy cheap aftershave and that brought a little smile to his face. He turned almost expecting Dean to be sitting next to him as he did but, thanks again to his own actions, he was all alone in this part of this nightmare.

Keeping the car at a crawl John circled the town once in search of Dean. He drew a blank but his attention was caught by the two or three kids hanging about down from the bar. Thoughts of Dean's hand and the little bundle of notes that was suddenly an unwelcome weight in his pocket marched through his thoughts. Not sure why he was doing it John pulled the car over, just sitting there until one of the boys pushed off the wall and walked over.

"See anything you like?" The kid, and damn but he really was just a kid, had the same cocky, arrogance about him that Dean had.

"I'm looking for someone…."

"Aren't we all," the guy cut him off and stepped back giving the car a quick glance, recognition in the look. "This is Dean's car. You his old man?"

The thoughts in his head turned to a lump in his throat that he fought to swallow. "Yeah."

"Saw him earlier." Max crossed his arms. "He said you tossed him out." He dropped his cigarette and stubbed it out. "So you looking for him or the brother?"

"Both."

"Dean was heading for the construction sites at the edge of town. I ain't seen the other one but I told Dean I'd keep an eye out." He dug in his pocket and held out a piece of paper. "Dean gave me a number."

"Can I see it?," John asked.

Shrugging Max passed it to John. He noted that it was the apartment's phone number. Fumbling in the glove box he pulled out a pen. "Here's another one." He jotted down the cell number thinking not for the first time that he needed to get Dean one of his own. "It should be good for another day before the battery dies. You call if you see Sam."

Max raised an eyebrow at the commanding tone in John's voice. "It's been a quiet night," he said conversationally. "What's it worth?"

"Did Dean have to pay?" John huffed as he dug for his billfold, pulling free a twenty.

"Dean's one of the boys," Max answered causing John's skin to crawl at the thought. "'sides he always brings coffee with him," Max finished. He examined the cash before crumpling it and stuffing it in his pocket. John watched him as he did. Dean's money in his pocket screamed for his attention again and he had to ask even though he knew he didn't want to know the answer. "When was the last time Dean was out here?"

The guy gave him a look. "Working or looking?," he asked and the bile rose in John's throat at the unwitting confirmation of his worst fear.

"Both," he managed to get out.

"He was here Tuesday for a couple of hours, did a few johns." John swallowed hard to keep from throwing up. "He's been round a couple of times after that looking for his brother." Max studied him, took in the gray look on the older man's face. "You didn't know that he was out here, did you?"

John looked at the boy, eyes that had seen too much resting in too young a face. _Just like Dean_, his inner voice offered. _And you kicked him out for being out doing what he had to do to feed himself and Sam. Where were you when he was out here? Is this your idea of keeping them safe? _"No," he answered both it and Max.

Max tapped a hand on the car. "Do him a favour? Don't make him have to come back." With that he moved over to the car that had stopped a few feet from John's own, hips swaying a little on the approach. With one last look at the Impala he climbed into the car and John watched as it pulled into the wide alley up from where they were. John tried hard not to think that it could have been Dean in that car less than a week ago.

He put the Impala in drive and after a brief stop at the construction site he headed out for Holbrook.

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks for reading my little tale and for letting me know that you like it. Sorry once again for the lack of replies to your kind reviews, but your support and views are loved and appreciated!

Mainly John and his thoughts and worries in this one. Mary x

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><p>The big car slid through the rain and the darkness, its headlights slicing a path for it as it tore down the I-40 towards Holbrook.<p>

The man at the wheel felt he could almost be the reason for the storm that raged around him. The feelings tearing up his insides matched the fury of the weather that he braved as he followed the only lead he had on his younger son. His mind at this minute however was not on Sam. No, his mind was running images of Dean and of the boy in Lupton. Over and over again he saw Dean getting into the car and not the kid he had spoken to and then, well then it went places that he refused to dwell in and so the loop continued and his mood grew blacker, in keeping with the weather around him.

_Maybe I'm hunting down the wrong kind of monsters, _he thought as he grimly gripped the wheel and urged the car onwards. _Maybe you should be hunting down the ones that let their kids end up there in the first place,_ his little voice hissed back at him. He didn't argue with it, how could he?

More than once he resisted the urge to turn the car and go hunt down the owner of that other one, show him some of a Winchester's other talents, whether he'd laid so much as a hand on his son or not. _He'll keep._ His mind slid to how he was going to broach the matter with his eldest. Awkward wasn't even the word to cover that conversation. It would be right up there with the birds and the bees one that he'd had to have with Dean at fifteen. He remembered finding condoms in his son's duffle and discovering that his son, not even of legal age, had already slept with more women that John himself still had to this day.

Shaking his head at the memory he turned his attention back to the present and vowed that he'd find a way to damn well ensure that Dean _**never **_did that again or even felt like he might have to. Then, his mind wandered down the path of had it happened before and he had to pull in to the side of the road and throw up what little he had eaten in the last few days.

Getting a grip John climbed back in the car and prayed to a god that he didn't believe in that it hadn't, that Dean hadn't felt the need to, felt like he had no other choice. _That you left him with no other choice? _This thought took him back to the other kid's final words to him. Yes, he was going to make damn sure that he didn't make Dean have to go back and do…..whatever the hell it was he had done, and didn't that just take his mind places again that rolled the remaining contents of his stomach into his throat_**.**_ He fought down the feeling, letting out a roar of frustration and switching his thoughts with some difficulty back to the more immediate problem of Sam and the approaching town.

The town marker flashed past, the lights of a service station rearing up on the left and he only slowed his boy's girl down a little, the back end fishtailing slightly as he cornered her into the bend and then into the forecourt. Pulling her to a rest along side one of the pumps he got out and hooked her up to it. Clearing his mind, he took a deep breath to take the edge off his anger before he walked inside to pay. He pulled out his billfold and took out John L Baird's credit card. His mood lightened momentarily and a little chuckle escaped him. What was he thinking when he thought that it would be a good idea to let Dean get practice applying for cards when he was helping Sam with history? The card that sat behind Baird's was Alex G Bell. He wouldn't be doing that again in a hurry. _Might not be doing it ever again if you don't find them. _He frowned at the thought and he reached for his photo of the boys that was sitting in behind the second card. John pulled it free as the guy behind the counter processed the sale. "Don't supposed you've see this kid in the station?" He tapped Sam in the picture. "Maybe getting out of a rig? Arguing with the driver?"

The young clerk looked up at him and then down at the photo. "Can you sign that?," he asked, sliding the slip over to John and then lifting the photo for a better look. "Ain't seen the dark haired one but the other one was through here earlier, just as I was coming on shift." He slid the photo back and took the card slip from John, separating it and handing back John his copy.

"The other one? You mean him?" He pointed at Dean.

He wanted to slap the look the guy gave him off his face. He had seen that look so many times on Sam's face recently and it always preceded a smart assed remark. "Well there are only two of them in the photo, aren't there?" He turned with an eye roll and put the slip in the register missing the murderous look that flitted through John's eyes. "He was getting out a rig on the far side of the station, over where we park the staff cars. I passed him on my way in."

"He was getting out a rig? Him?" John tapped Dean on the photo, unable to keep the confusion out of his voice. "You sure it was him?"

The clerk sighed and then stepped back at the look John threw him. "It was him, same jacket, same hair and same face. I got a real good look at him. Oh and he had a duffle, an old army type one."

"And he was getting out the rig?" _I'm going to kill him. With my bare hands._

"Y-eah," the guy answered barely keeping the _are you stupid _tone from his voice. "He headed off into town, over the fields. There's a shortcut through there, brings you out almost on the main street." The clerk eyed him again. "You need anything else?"

"You got a phone in here?," John asked, turning his head and scanning the store as he did.

"Round the side, next to the restrooms."

"Thanks."

John stomped round the side of the little store his mind racing. _Why the hell didn't he call me? Why the hell didn't he come back for his damn car? __**What the hell would possess him to hitch?**__ Maybe because you told him not to come back without Sam and wasn't that an order John? You know the thing that you drilled into your son's head always to obey. _John rubbed a hand through his hair and lifted the receiver of the payphone. _What if he never comes back because he can't find Sam? What if they both never come back?_

The phone dropped straight to voice mail and John resisted the urge to scream and rip the payphone from the wall. He calmed himself before he left the message. "Dean, I'm in Holbrook, I believe you are too. I'll call back and leave a place to meet up before the battery dies on your phone. Dean…." He paused unsure what to say. "You be careful, do you hear me. No taking risks finding your brother. I mean it Dean. That's an order," he added before hanging up.

He walked back to the car and then headed into town. His small consolation as he drove was at least both his sons had been spotted in the same place. Hoping that maybe they were already together he headed off into the night the Impala scattering the rain from his path as he did.

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><p>Sam was torn from his dream by the sound of thunder rolling in just seconds before a flash lit the room and the thunder rolled overhead again. The dog next to him gave a little whine and moved closer, tucking its head under his hand. "You scared of the storm?," he asked it softly, scratching it behind the ear. He jumped at the next loud crash, sliding down further into the bed and hauling the covers up to his chin. "Me too. Dean always calls me a wuss but he doesn't like it either." For the first time all week Sam wished his brother was there, a sudden rush of missing Dean hitting him and making him wipe at his eyes. "Such a girl," he muttered to himself smiling at managing to sound like his brother. Shaking his head at the freaky weather he pulled the dog in closer, curled round it and listened as the rain started again, pounding on the roof of the cabin. Closing his eyes he let it gently lull him back to sleep.<p>

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><p>Dean wearily raised his head as the first rumble of thunder sounded overhead, his back protesting at even that gentle movement. He knew his kid brother hated storms, always had and Dean wondered if Sam was safe indoors somewhere or if he was outside and scared. He checked his watch and realised that somehow he'd managed to sleep for almost four hours. The lightning lit up his little abode and the rain started again, large splashes that bounced off the dumpster and showered him with icy cold water. Raising himself up Dean pushed back with his heels, moving further back into the recess, his body making its protest loud and clear at the movement after his choice of bed for the night. Rolling to his knees he had to wait for a second as a wave of dizziness hit him before he hauled himself to his feet. Gingerly he stretched out the kinks from his aching muscles, working one group at a time until everything had settled back to a dull throb. Placing his damaged hand on the wall to steady himself he looked at the soggy mess that had once been a bandage. It would need changed; he didn't want to risk an infection in the wound beneath it. Deciding that it was time to check out of his luxurious accommodation he slipped his jacket back on and pushed the dumpster to the side. The alley was empty and quiet and he grabbed his duffle and stepped on into it.<p>

His feet took him back in the direction of the service station, it was next to the interstate so he reckoned it might still be opened. As he walked the rain eased off and a chill wind sprang up in its place bring the sound of the thunder still rumbling off in the distance to his ears. Thinking how fucked up the weather was lately he quickened his pace, glad when the lights of the station came into view. Stepping inside he headed for the coffee machine, freeing some change from his pocket and purchasing a cup of strong, black heaven. He sipped it as he walked the aisles letting the heat in the little shop warm him until the clerk shifted to get a better look at him.

"I help you with something?," the older man asked, giving Dean a distrusting look.

"Your restroom open?," he asked as his stomach reminded him quite vocally that he still hadn't eaten. Dean eyed the hot food in the cabinet next to the counter but didn't want to waste money that he might need when he found Sam so he settled for the less expensive candy bars on the display in front.

The man slid a key over the counter to him. "Lights on a timer, works off the door. Don't be too long and don't leave it lying around, kids use that restroom too."

Dean frowned and then it hit him and he wondered how bad he must look for the man to have figured him for a junkie. Deciding that he didn't want to know he paid for the candy and headed out round to where the guy had indicated.

The light sprang to life as he opened the door and as he came face to face with himself in the mirror he wasn't sure if it was the cause of the grey pallor to his skin. He had his doubts though. A scruffy beard covered the bottom half of his face hiding most of the yellow of the bruises that still littered one side. Tearing his eyes away from the mirror he humped his duffle up onto the sink and rummaged through it. True to form John had thrown in the first aid kit, although Dean wasn't sure if it was for him to use or in case he needed it once he found his brother. He pushed that thought right away. _Sam was okay, out there, but okay. He had to be_. Digging out a bandage, cream, a roll of sticking plaster and scissors he got to work on his hand.

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><p>John cruised the main street wishing that Impala's engine didn't have such a noticeable growl in the quietness after the storm. The weather bothered him. He'd been tracking odd weather patterns when Dean had called and left his message about Sam. Weather patterns that after a lot of research he now knew signalled that the thing he was hunting for was in the area. The thing that had ripped his family apart, that had taken his wife and his boys' mother. The fact that the weather seemed to have followed him here chilled him and filled him with fear that both his sons could be in more danger than either could ever imagine. With that happy thought riding him he stopped at a payphone and tried to call Dean again. Predictably it went to voicemail so he hung up and tried again. Sighing as it dropped to the automated voice again he left a message telling Dean to meet him in the bus station that John had passed earlier. Maybe if he asked round there after Sam someone might have seen him.<p>

He finally pulled up across from the building and killed the engine. Sliding down in the seat John pulled the collar up on his jacket and sat to wait it out until morning when there would be more people to ask.

He raised his eyes to the heavens as outside, the thunder rumbled on.

* * *

><p>The noise of the phone was loud in the confines of the small bathroom and Dean was half way through dressing his hand as it rang. He fumbled in his inside pocket where he'd put it to keep it dry and finally got a grip on it. Pulling it free he hit answer only for the dial tone to greet him. Checking the log he saw that he had a missed call for this area code. Cursing he tossed the phone down in the sink not knowing if it had been John looking for him or Sam looking for dad. Dean snatched it back up and dialled the apartment phone but it just rang out. He ended the call and then saw that he now had another missed call and a message. The sound of his dad's voice warmed him but he wasn't sure that the fact John was near was such a comfort. Finishing his ministrations on his hand he used the facilities, washed his face one handed and then headed out to meet up with his father and to find Sam.<p>

The bus station wasn't far and there was light now starting to break through the dark clouds overhead. Finding a bench that was outside the station he sat down and pulled his jacket in tight around him, using his duffle to block the wind from him. He hugged what was left of his now lukewarm coffee and waited for morning and John to come.

* * *

><p>Sam woke as the first streaks of light were crossing the sky, the black clouds of the night and the storm lifting to bring brightness to the day. He rolled out of the bed and straightened it. Cleaning up in the little sink in the room he called to the dog, exiting and locking the cabin door. Sam headed in the direction of the little diner where he'd gotten fed the previous day hoping that the waitress from the day before would be on the same shift. She had caved easily to the look that Dean had christened his 'puppy dog' one and gave him free food. His brother had always said that it would come in handy with woman one day and he'd been right, although not in the way that Sam thought Dean had meant for him to use it. Smiling at the thought of his big brother he ignored the pang of loneliness that hit him as he headed for the back door of the diner, thankful for the company of the dog trotting along happily at his heels.<p>

"You back again?," the waitress smiled at Sam as she came out into the alley to dump some trash. "Brought a friend too I see." She knelt down and patted the dog. "What's his name?"

"Bones," Sam offered. "So, I just came back to thank you for the breakfast yesterday." He shot her the look and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"You had anything since?"

"Pizza." _Cold and doughy pizza._

"Food of kings," she laughed.

Sam laughed too. "That's what my big brother calls it."

"Where is your brother honey? Is he out and about somewhere around here too?" She didn't push but she didn't like the idea of this kid out on the street on his own, didn't like the idea of him out here at all. She had already noted that he was wearing the same clothes as yesterday and by the look of them he had been wearing them a while. She wondered where he had been eating before she had found him out here yesterday.

"No Dean's at home," Sam offered back as if it wasn't strange for a teenager to be begging at the back door of the diner at seven in the morning while his elder brother was in the house.

"Oh. Does Dean look after you? Does he know you're out here?"

A closed look came over Sam's face and she knew that she had pushed too hard, that the horse was about to bolt. "So are you hungry?," she asked heading him off at the pass.

He nodded.

"Wait here."

Sam shifted uneasily from foot to foot as he waited, sure that she was going to appear back with a cop but the lure of hot food was too strong for him to run just yet. He was just about to give it up as a bad idea when she appeared back at the door with a paper bag. The smell from it had Bones wagging his tail and Sam thought he be wagging his too if he had one. Pancakes, he would know that smell anywhere. "Thanks," he said, eyes lighting up as she handed him the bag.

"Do me a favour honey, go home and share these with your brother. I'm sure that he'd want you too."

Grabbing the dog by the collar Sam stepped back. "He would." Sam knew that was the truth, that by now his brother would be sick with worry and for a moment, he wished he could. His stubborn streak though refused to admit that he might be in the wrong here and so he thanked her again and headed to the park behind the construction site with his spoils.

The waitress watched until he disappeared round the corner and then headed back in with a heavy heart and a sigh.

tbc


	5. Chapter 5

Hey! Sorry for the delay in this but I have been off on holiday and it has been my son's birthday.

Thanks for all the reviews which again to my shame go unanswered. As always I appreciate the comments and the support. Nong Pradu, I will fix my Pimms just haven't had a chance yet, but thank you I couldn't hear what Sam said in that scene and Pimms was the closest I could come up with. The thought of John and Dean finding Sam smashed though has given me food for thought! lol

Onwards people...xx

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><p>It was as he rounded the bus station to head for the pedestrian entrance that John spotted him. He was a lone figure hunched over on the bench, head resting awkwardly on the army duffle that was propped up beside him. At his feet there was a coffee cup lying over on one side that rolled around in the breeze that cut and chilled the air around them. It was hard to make out the face in the drizzle that had started but John knew who it was anyway.<p>

It was Dean.

His pleasure at finding one son was tempered only by the fact that the other wasn't with him like he had hoped.

Dean raised his head stiffly from its resting place and turned towards him, the brief hopeful look in his eyes going flat when he realised that his father was also alone.

"Hey." John stopped beside him and put a hand down onto his shoulder needing the physical contact to reassure him that this son was real and not just a figment of his tired and stressed imagination.

"Anything?," Dean asked, his voice sounding rough.

Taking a good look at his eldest John wasn't sure that he liked what he saw. _Should have taken the time to look before you threw him out into the night,_ he chided himself. Dean's eyes were green pools in black holes and the bruises and freckles on his face where stark against the pale tone of the skin they sat on. The starts of a scruffy beard clung to his cheeks and jaw line. The was a tide line on dean's jacket where only part of it had dried and John realised that the shoulder his hand was resting on was still soaked through.

"Take that off," he ordered as he slipped his own leather jacket off and handed it to his son. It took longer than John would have liked for Dean to understand what he was offering, cold and confusion both playing a part. "Dean, give me your jacket. Take this." He tried to help Dean free himself of the wet garment only to stop as his son hissed when his back was jerked by the action.

"Don't, I got it," Dean said as he pulled himself free of his father's touch and eased the jacket off his back that was still screaming at him at John's, and his own, treatment of it. He balled it into the duffle and then slipped John's leather on, the heat from his warm body still lingering inside it and taking the chill off Dean's back and arms. He could feel his father's eyes on him, looking him over. It made him feel uncomfortable, like John could see inside him, read his thoughts. _Don't want daddy doing that, do we now Dean? _

He realised that his dad had said something. "What?"

The sigh John let out crawled in under Dean's skin. Two minutes in and already John was pissed at him.

"I said...you look like shit son and you're wet."

Turning to look at John fully for the first time Dean plastered a neutral look onto his features and replied the way he knew his father would expect. "Right back at you and in case you missed it, it's been raining all night."

John snorted at the little bit of snark and then a thought hit him. "Have you been out in that all night?"

_You only gave me forty dollars what do you think, _Dean thought but his mouth was ahead of him in the survival stakes and didn't voice his thinking. "Nah, I found somewhere to hole up but not until after I got drowned."

"Your truck driver friend not have somewhere dry you could have stayed?," John asked before he could stop himself, accusation heavy in his tone.

Dean raised an eyebrow, closed his eyes and explained himself, cursing internally as he did. "Sam stowed in his truck Tuesday night. The guy offered me a lift to where he found him in the trailer and I took it. I was gonna call you but the phone wouldn't work." He prayed that the lie slipped passed his father.

"Really?," John answered sarcastically with a little raise of his own eyebrows.

"Really," Dean shot back, ignoring the tone. "It's not like I didn't have my colt if he tried anything funny," he finished a little more quietly.

_Did you have it when you were in the alley in Lupton?,_ John wanted to ask but manfully resisted. "What have I told you about hitching?"

"No, no and no." Dean answered flatly.

"So why did you?"

Tired, bloodshot eyes met his. "I wanted to find my brother like you told me to. It was a lead, my only lead in over a week, so I took it. Sue me."

Dean watched as he father first bristled at the tone of the comment and then deflated, hand reaching to squeeze his shoulder again. "I want to find your brother too, doesn't mean that I'm going to take stupid, unnecessary risks to do it," John hit back grabbing Dean's duffle as he did. "Come on, the station's opened fully now. We can ask around, see if anybody has seen Sam." Not waiting to see if Dean was following John turned on his heel and headed off towards the entrance.

Dean started after his father, cursing quietly when his back started to bitch about moving again. He saw John cast a glance back at him as he reached the door, a frown deepening the lines of his forehead when he saw Dean struggling. Biting back the groan that wanted out Dean straightened and then walked as easily as he could towards where his father was waiting.

"What's wrong with your back?," John asked more edge in his voice than he meant.

"M'cold is all. S'fine, it'll ease off." Dean pushed by John signalling an end to the short interrogation.

John sighed and followed him in.

* * *

><p>They asked round the station for over two hours, catching people coming off and on the long distance buses as well as quizzing the staff and drivers. Splitting up for a little while John could tell that Dean's search had been as fruitless as his own when he saw his son stomping back towards him, disappointment and worry etched onto his face. "Nothing," he informed John dolefully as he drew to a halt in front of him. "What now?"<p>

Even with the heavy leather on him John could see that Dean was shivering and he was pretty sure that his son was running a slight fever too. That decided him and he pulled the Impala's keys from his pocket. "Let's go for a ride."

Dean followed him out to the car, tossing his bag in the back and slipping into the passenger seat as John climbed in. They cruised along the main street, Dean pointing out the places that he had checked the day before until John made a turn off the street and down to where a little motel sat, its paint peeling slightly and the net curtains at the windows having seen better days. He parked the car, told Dean to stay and then headed into the reception.

Thinking that his father was just checking to see if Sam had been there Dean collapsed back on the seat. He could feel his skin starting to burn beneath his clothes, the sweat starting to form on his brow. _Not now,_ he begged. _I can't be sick, I need to find Sam. _He didn't bother to open his eyes when John got back in the car until it didn't head in the direction that he thought it would. John killing the engine had him sitting back up. "What are you doing?"

"Need some place to use as a base and you need to get cleaned up and warm. We both need a bed, catch a few hours proper sleep."

"What and waste time that we might need to find Sam? No sir." Dean went to get out of the car but John stopped him.

"You are no use to me or to Sam when you're half dead on your feet and you're running a fever. Not to mention that you stink. So get your ass in the room, Dean. That's an order."

They sat frozen there like that for a moment, John's hand on Dean's arm, just staring at one another. Eventually John won. Dean huffed a huff worthy of his brother and pushed open the door. "Fine, I'll get cleaned up and then we can head out again."

Dean grabbed both his bag and his father's one from the back seat as John opened the door to the little motel room. It was cleaner and better kept than it looked it might have been from the outside. Dropping the duffle bags on the bed Dean opened his only to remember that he didn't have any other clothes other than the wet ones inside and the ones he stood in.

John read his mind. "Got you some more clothes in my bag. Shaving kit's in there too." He reached for his son's face roughing the smattering of hair growing there with his hand. "Need to lose the bum fluff, makes you look like a hobo."

Snorting Dean pulled away, reaching for John's duffle and freeing an old pair of jeans and then pausing when he pulled out the t-shirt. It was his favourite one and he shot his father a quick look.

"Only clean one there was," John lied.

"U-huh." Dean looked up at him, eyes searching for something in John's face that he seemed to find. "Thanks," he muttered snatching the shaving kit and heading for the bathroom.

John stared at the closed door. He had so many things to say to his son and he had no idea how to start without Dean seeing it as him having a go at his ability to cope when John wasn't there. He moved over to the bed and took his phone from the pocket of Dean's wet jacket. Hanging the jacket on the chair he put the phone on charge and then sat down and called Bobby. The man answered after one ring.

"I need your help," John asked before Bobby could speak.

"You find Sam?"

"No, but this isn't about him. It's Dean. I need a favour."

"Seems that's all I'm here for," Bobby groused but without any bite. "Minute." He grabbed a beer from the fridge thinking that he'd need one and then settled back on his chair. "So John, what's on your mind?"

Pushing his chair back John put his elbows on the table and let Bobby know what he was asking for.

"No problem but I can tell you now, he ain't gonna like that," Bobby offered when John had finished. "Why now? What happened?"

John ran a hand over his face, wanting to talk about what he'd found out but not wanting his old friend to know what he'd reduced his son to doing. "Cant tell you, I just need your help."

"You got it, hell when it's your kids John, you know you don't even have to ask."

* * *

><p>Dean came out of the bathroom to find his father sitting at the table, phone in hand. John looked up guilty as he entered and Dean felt like he had done something wrong the way his father's eyes settled on him and he ended the call abruptly. <em>Talking about me? Telling someone else that I'm a screw up?<em>, he thought as he dropped the towel he was drying his hair with down on the bed and grabbed socks from the duffle.

"Where are you going?," John asked when he realised that Dean was pulling on his boots.

Shooting his dad an incredulous look Dean moved closer to get his jacket. "Sam? Remember? Your other son? The one that has been missing for over a week." Dean tugged at his jacket but John just leant back and trapped his hand between his back and the chair.

"I remember, but you are going to get something to eat and then get some sleep while I try and figure out where to look next."

"No." Dean tugged at his jacket. "I'm going to find my brother. Food and sleep can wait."

John stood. "We're shooting blind here Dean, a few more hours ain't gonna matter. You're gonna sit your ass down on that bed and wait here until I go get us something to eat and then you're gonna get some sleep. Then and only then are we going looking for Sam."

"And what if something happens to him while I'm eating or sleeping?," Dean asked, the tremble and the guilt clear in his voice.

"If he's made it this far on his own an hour or two more ain't gonna make any difference." John couldn't look in his son's eyes, knowing that Dean would see the fears that he had for Sam reflected in John's own.

"Yeah it could and if this was a hunt you'd be out that door in an instant." Dean spat out.

That did it. John reached for him and fisted Dean's shirt tightly, drawing him in until they were almost sharing the same space.

"Don't, I want to find Sam as much as you do," he warned and then dropped his still clenched fist down at his side. "If this was a hunt I'd know where to look but thanks to you letting him get by you, I don't have that luxury," he spat back and Dean flinched. "So you are damn well gonna sit yourself down and shut the hell up or so help me, I'm gonna put you down and get you to rest that way." John spun away, pulled an old jacket of his own from the duffle and slid it on.

He checked his pockets for money hesitating only briefly when his fingers found the little wad of notes balled up in the front pocket of his jeans. He pulled it out, took a deep breath and then dropped them on the table. Dean stiffened when he saw them. "Believe you earned this," John said, watching the way the words and the way they were said made a shocked, panicked look register on his son's face. Snatching a few of the notes up John stepped level with Dean. "I'm gonna go get us something to eat, this should be enough." Dean didn't react, he was still staring at the cash in John's hand and all the older man had to do was merely touch his hand to his son's chest to get him to drop down on the edge of the bed. "You be here when I get back, you hear me," John growled.

Dean finally nodded dumbly, not sure that he could speak right now with the worry that his father might know the source of the money filling him and threatening to let John see just how little he had eaten in the last few days.

John nodded back. His talk with Dean about the cash could wait for now. They both needed sleep before that subject could be raised peacefully the older man knew. Letting his son stew for a while might not be a bad thing either, might make him think before he did something like that again, not that he was ever going to do something like that again if John could help it. With that he stepped outside and turned his thoughts to getting them something to eat which in turn brought them back to Sam and make him wonder how his other son was faring for food and shelter. He prayed one more time that Sam had both and then headed out.

* * *

><p>Dean couldn't move. His entire body seemed to be shutting down on him as he stared at the rest of the cash that John had left behind. <em>You are so screwed Winchester, he's gonna kill you when he makes you tell him. <em>He silently berated himself for leaving it lying out even as hope flared briefly in him that maybe his father would think he had got it from a totally different type of hustling from what he had. _Yeah right,_ he thought and the flame flickered and was doused by the knowledge that his father wasn't stupid. He'd seen Dean's hand and Dean had seen the look in John's eye, heard the tone in his voice and the way he had phrased the words...e_arned this. _His chest tightened painfully as he let the meaning of that sink in. _He knows, oh God, he knows. _He raised a hand to his face, covering his mouth as the first sob hitched out. _No, no, no, damn it! _The second sob was more of a wretch and it sent him scrambling across the room and into the bathroom. His knees protested at the harsh treatment as he dropped down on them and hurled into the toilet. _Shit, shit, shit. _He threw up again, dry heaves taking hold of him and he wished he was dying instead of only feeling like it. Dying would be easier than having to face John, to listening to his father tell him he knew what kind of person his son was.

It felt like an age before finally his stomach settled and he fought back control of his sinking ship. Staggering to his feet he used his hands and arms to brace himself in the doorway and took a moment and a few breathes to calm his thoughts the way he had managed to calm his body. When he was as ready as he was ever going to be Dean crossed the room and swept the cash off the table, taking it and shoving it in the front pocket of his duffle._ Out of sight, out of mind,_ he told himself. _You should be so lucky,_ his little inner voice chuckled dryly.

He circled the room once not sure what to do now. He had never wanted to run so badly in all his life but then John would only hunt him down so he would have only delaying the inevitable. Dean headed for the door needing fresh air to clear his head. He stepped out in his shirt sleeves into the wind that he'd wished he could get out of only hours before. It chilled him instantly, reminding him that he was running a little hot, but it was better than being stuck in the motel room just waiting for his father to come back. He walked round the entire motel arms huddled across his chest, a coldness running through him that had little to do with the weather.

As he turned past the reception a town plan in the window caught his attention and he stuck his head in there long enough to snag one.

John wouldn't be long before he was back so Dean reluctantly headed back to their room. There was a pen lying on the table which he grabbed on the way past and then dropped down on the bed. Spreading open the map he started to mark off the streets and areas that he had checked trying vainly to keep his mind on the task. Finishing it all too soon he threw both items onto the bedside table and rolled over curling up as he did. Closing his eyes he had nothing to do now but wait for and worry about John's return. John would judge him, of that Dean had no doubt but then maybe he deserved to be judged because what kind of person does what he had? _Desperate _was the word his little inner voice supplied but that wasn't the word that Dean was sure that John would use for him. Drawing his legs in tighter he wasn't sure if he would ever be able to look his father in the face again, then again, he wasn't sure that his father would want him to.

With that happy thought circling his head he took the only form of escape that he had left, he let his body shut itself down and claim the sleep that it craved.

tbc


	6. Chapter 6

Firstly thank you for all the reviews for the last chapter. You post and then cross your fingers that other people like it and to get a handful of good reviews makes your day!

This is one of the main chapters in this and I sweated over this, altered it, altered it back! John and Dean talk. I had trouble with John in this, perhaps made him softer than he should be but I always see him as conflicted between loving his sons and making them tough enough to be the soldiers he needs in the war he is fighting. Haven't forgotten about Sam but this chapter felt as if it just needed to be Dean and his dad.

Enjoy!

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><p>Dean was sleeping the sleep of the dead when John got back. In fact if it hadn't been for the chesty wheeze as he breathed out his father would have been up checking for a pulse and breath, so pale and still was his son.<p>

The older man stood there quietly at the bottom of the bed and took a rare moment to just watch his boy sleep. Dean was shaping up to be the fine, strong hunter that he would need to be, his body now built of sleek muscle and a bulk that appeared to be building daily through training and despite their lack of proper diet. However, that's not what John saw as he looked at his sleeping child today. What he saw today was something that he rarely took the time to see, the vulnerable child that still lurked under the shadow of the soldier his father wanted him to be. His little boy, so like his mother that John could barely stand to look at him, the memories pulled up to sweetly painful to bear. His son slept lying curled on his side, clean shaven and with his slightly longer than usual hair damped down on his forehead. It made Dean look so young, innocent and truly beautiful in his repose that it made John's heart ache.

_It's why they want him__, _his little voice intruded on his moment of peace_. _

John moved then, pulled the comforter off the other bed and spread it gently over his slumbering child, a need to cover his boy at his most open and vulnerable filling him. He tucked the cover round Dean's side and back, noting the bruise that ran all the way across the latter, just between his hips. _Pool table,_ John thought, he'd had a few bruises like that in his time. Dean must have really upset the guys in the bar he realised; they had done quite a number on his son. He made a mental note to ask Dean for some details and then track them down and take some of the frustration he was feeling at the moment out on them. It wouldn't change anything but it would make him feel better, if only for a little while.

The hunter lowered himself down on the bed opposite and dropped the box with the food in it next to him. It troubled him that Dean hadn't woke when he'd moved around him but if his son felt half as tired and drained as John did then it shouldn't really be a surprise.

It was an effort just to remove his jacket. He was bone weary and at this moment more tired of this life than he had even been. The only two things that meant anything to him, one of his reasons for starting this fight in the first place, where both in danger. Sam from being out there alone and Dean, well hell he was in danger from just being Dean. The boy never did learn how to look after himself as well as he did his brother and despite the present turn of events John trusted Dean to do that. Truth be told, he trusted his son more than he trusted himself to look after all of them.

John dropped his head and sighed, wiping at his face and trying to decide if he should wake Dean and get him to eat or let him rest. Just as he had settled on the latter Dean started to twitch on the bed, the low, raw shout of Sam's name that escaped from his son's throat almost breaking something in the older man. "Dean?," he called softly, moving closer but not too close. It wouldn't be the first time that Dean had woken from a nightmare and almost blinded John with the knife that was always tucked beneath his pillow. "Hey dude, wake up," he tried again, louder this time. Dean's eyes shot open and he scrambled back instinctively from the presence in front of him, almost falling off the bed before he managed to right himself. He blinked at John.

"Sammy?" This time there was confusion and a hopeful edge in Dean's voice that did break John a little, another worry filling him as he looked at his son. _Lose one, you're gonna lose the other one too, he'll never recover from losing his brother. _He shook it away, _he ain't losing his brother John_, and reached out for Dean again.

"Easy tiger, it's dad," he soothed bring his hand down to rest on Dean's arm and frowning as his son pulled away diverting his eyes down to the covers that he was gripping tightly in his hands. John watched as his boy pulled himself upright and leant against the headboard, attention still down on the horrid green swirls that graced the duvet.

Not sure what he could say that would be right John pulled a carton from the box and tossed it carefully into his son's lap. He set two bottles of beer on the little table between the beds and then he too settled back on the second bed in the room. He wanted to ask Dean what the nightmare had been about but he knew that he would just get a non-descript answer so he didn't. Instead he sat and watched as Dean opened the carton, pulled out the fork from inside it and made a half hearted attempt to eat some of the contents. Dean stuck it back inside, pulled it free then stuck it back in again and then idly swirled the contents of the carton with it. He did it a few more times before John snapped. "Stop playing with it and eat it," he growled at his son watching as Dean shot him a guarded look but dug in, finally pulling a forkful of food free and cramming it into his mouth. Waiting until Dean chewed and swallowed it John dug back into his own carton mimicking Dean's earlier actions before he gave up and exchanged the carton for one of the bottle which be downed in three long gulps.

"You ain't gonna eat yours?"

John tossed the bottle at the bin, it dropping in with a satisfying clatter and shook his head. "I ain't got any appetite."

"Your kidding right? I gotta eat but you don't? What makes you think I do?" Dean went to drop his carton on the table and John stopped him with a roar.

"You'll damn well eat that, all of it!"

"I can't…..," Dean answered back quietly, his voice wavering a little and stealing all John's anger in an instant.

He shuffled closer to his son. "Yeah, you can and you will Dean. I can't have you getting sick on top of trying to find Sam. Which reminds me….." He dug in his pockets and pulled free some Tylenol, tossing them across the gap between the beds. "Take these as well."

Dean stared at the little box of tablets and then reached for the other carton on the table. Lifting it he held it out to his father. "I can't have you getting sick either when we're trying to find Sammy. I need you to eat something too. I promise I'll finish mine, take the tablets and grab some sleep…. if you will too."

John let a little smile grace his lips, Dean always knew how to handle him, subtle trade offs instead of Sam's back bristling all out attacks.

"Deal." John took the food and dug in.

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><p>John woke to the sound of Dean talking on the phone. "…..no, haven't found him yet Bobby…..no dad and I where just taking some down time…we will….okay…yeah…..speak to you later."<p>

"What was that about?"

Dean raised his head to look at his father and then dropped his eyes again. "Just Bobby checking in. He hasn't heard anything more from his friends that are in the area but they are still looking."

John stretched and eased himself up. "Time we were too. Gonna take a look at that hand of yours first."

Dean paled but John pretended not to notice. He grabbed the first aid kit from the bag and then sat down opposite Dean. "How long did you sleep?," he asked his son as he undid the bandages on Dean's hand.

"Just about an hour. I got some sleep last night."

John hissed when he saw the full extent of his son's injury. "You're gonna give me the name of the bar these guys were in and then once this heals you and I are gonna pay them a little visit, see how they like it when the sides are even."

"Okay." Dean watched as his father gently manipulated his fingers.

"How's the feeling?"

"It's fine. Just bruised and cut. Don't think that they did anything permanent."

"Who stitched it?," John asked suddenly realising that Dean couldn't have seen to this on his own. "You go to the ER?"

"Nah, Sam did it. Made a good job too, didn't he?" There was pride in his voice as he spoke.

John looked at the neat row of stitches and nodded. "Sure did, almost as good as yours."

That earned him a quick flick of Dean's eyes to his face.

John decided to seize the moment. "Strange though, that they'd work you over like that and still let you keep the cash." Dean jerked and John wasn't sure if it was the words or the nip of the alcohol against his wound. "Dean?" His son didn't look up. _He knows what's coming John, best just to get to the point._ "Where did you get the money from?"

"Like you said," Dean muttered. "I _earned_ it."

"How? Couldn't have hustled pool, not with your hand like this. Wanna enlighten me?"

_No, not really,_ Dean thought. He wanted to stand but John had a tight grip on his hand and wrist. _He knows Dean, just dot the i and cross the t for him. _"I got it a different night, the night Sam bailed."

"That's when not how."

Dean lifted his eyes and locked them to John's using his only defence that he had left. "What, you want a _blow_ by _blow_ account?," he answered sarcasm empathising the words with double meaning and making John feel sick to his stomach.

Dean braced himself. _Here it comes._ Instead of shouting at him though John said his name with a sorrow in his voice that was so much worse than the anger Dean had expected. That sorrow had his face flushing with shame and blew that last defence.

"You can see my hand, I didn't know what else to do," he stammered. "You weren't answering your phone and you were so late coming back and that bastard Grieve? He was at the door every second of the god damned day demanding his money. He told me to go out and earn it if you couldn't. So...so I did. I can handle myself," he added as an afterthought.

"God Dean." It was John that looked away, tears welling in his eyes and a lump in his throat that was hard to swallow past. "You don't do that Dean. What if something had happened to you?" John hissed at him. Knowing that Dean probably didn't care what happened to him John swung it the other way, used his trump card, hell his only card. "What would Sam have done if I hadn't came back and then you hadn't come back either? What if he'd had to go looking for you, found you hurt or worse in some alley?" _What would I have done? _"Hell if you can't get a hold of me then you call someone Dean. You go to Jim's or Bobby's or hell even Caleb but you don't…..you don't…" John couldn't finish the sentence.

Dean did it for him. "…whore myself out?"

"Don't use that word!," His father snapped at him.

"Why? It's what you think I am, right?" Dean wished that his dad would let go of his hand so he could stand and put some distance between them but John had tightened his grip until it was almost painful.

"Don't you put words in my mouth," John growled.

"Then what do you want me to call it?," Dean bit back.

John looked back up, guilt and pain there and Dean thought perhaps a little disgust. "Not that. I don't think that of you. Didn't think that you'd ever…..besides….." John knew he had to know. "It was just a one off."

It was Dean's turn to drop his eyes, teeth worrying his bottom lip.

_Shit_, John thought. "Dean? It was a one off? Wasn't it?"

The silence sat heavy on Dean's shoulders and crushed John's chest until he was almost unable to breath. "Dean?," he pushed out.

"It's just sex, so what if they pay me for it."

John didn't know what he hated most, the words or the nonchalance and the shrug that they were said with. _He thinks it doesn't matter because you make him feel like he doesn't matter,_ and he knew that for Dean that thought was the truth. His son's sense of self-worth had been crushed by his own unending demands on him. _Don't fuck this up John, _his little voice cautioned. He dropped Dean's hand at that and his son pulled it back across the table, both men rising to their feet as he did. "No it's not, its prostitution," John growled and stepped into Dean, gripping his son by the arms and shaking him as if trying to shake sense into him. "It's not Dean, god, tell me that you know the difference?" He pulled Dean in, one hand on the back of his son's head pulling it down on his shoulder and the other resting on Dean's back. "Don't you ever do that again, do you hear me?," he almost whispered in his son's ear. "Not ever." Anger and tears coloured John's words. He pulled Dean free and held him at arms length noting the tears forming in his son's own eyes. It cut him that his son flinched as he raised his hand no doubt expecting a blow that John would never deliver. Instead the hunter rested his hand on Dean's cheek, his thumb wiping at the single tear that stained his boy's face. He used the hand to raise Dean's head and to get his son to look him dead in the eye. "And just in case you aren't clear, that's a damned order Dean!"

Dean wanted to die, he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole but it didn't so he straightened up, turned liquid eyes to his father and nodded.

"Nope," John spat out. "Not good enough. You say it. You promise me that you won't." He gave Dean another little shake. "Do it!"

"I promise," came the quiet reply. John freed Dean's face and his son dropped his head immediately. "M'sorry, I know what you must think of me….."

"….you stop right there," John interrupted him. "I was the one that left you in that situation so I don't think worse of you that I do of myself. You did what you thought you had to." He paused. "I need to know Dean," John swallowed hard. "How many times?"

Dean shrugged.

"What does that mean?," his father asked some of his anger returning.

"Three…..maybe four."

John had to ask the question. "Did you…...how far did you…" Let them go were the words that he wanted to use but it wasn't the words that John wanted Dean to hear because really Dean hadn't let anyone do anything to him, not when if was John that had forced his hand.

Dean looked up somehow getting the question from the awkward look on his father's face. "No, not that. Never that."

John wiped a hand across his nose and took a deep breath. It was bad but at least it wasn't as bad as he had feared. He needed space now, to get away from his son for a little time to process his next move and Sam was the perfect excuse. "Let's get this hand done and get out after your brother." John was almost grateful to his younger son for a second because without Sam's little prison break he might never have known what Dean was doing, might never had had to chance to stop it before something happened that there would be no going back from.

Finishing the task of Dean's hand he reminded himself to ground Sam forever when he found him as a thank you.

tbc


	7. Chapter 7

John had been checking some of the local bars and pool halls, even though Sam was too young to get in. After what he'd learned Dean had been up to, the man decided to leave no stone unturned and to keep an open mind about where Sam was and what he could be doing to survive on his own. The very thought of his thirteen year old even contemplating doing what his seventeen year old had done, well if it wasn't for the fact that Sam was still in the wind John was delighted when his search came up empty. His youngest hadn't been near any of the places that John had visited and for that the hunter was truly grateful.

All he needed now was a break and to find him.

He stopped into the next diner, asked the same questions he had been asking for the last hour and sighed when he received the same shake of the head and sympathetic smile that he'd received in the last two. He settled at the counter, ordered a coffee and picked through the papers in case there was anything that could be a lead on Sam. He checked the local crime beat section for burglaries in the area, thefts from sheds and things like that but none sounded like it could be the work of his son. Starting to close the paper a report caught his eye. There had been various strange cattle deaths in the surrounding area, experts were examining the carcasses and paperwork of the beasts for disease or a common link. It wasn't enough to make front page news, _never is, _John thought, but it merited a line or two inside the paper. The weather too had been patchy, torrential rain giving way to an unseasonable warm earlier that change to the storm that at the moment raged outside the diner and across the three towns of Lupton, Holbrook and was now centring in on Flagstaff. John's nerves jangled at the thought that the thing that killed Mary could be anywhere near either of his sons.

His thoughts turned back to what Dean might be doing and he snatched up the paper, stood from the diner counter and crossed to the phone. Even though his elder son had promised not to take any unnecessary risks in finding his brother, John and his son's definition of that didn't vary enough for him not still to be worried. That and his mind kept going places which he wasn't proud of. He also wasn't proud that he had lasted less that an hour with Dean out of his sights before the need to dial the cell phone that he had left with his son hit him. It rang out and the call dropped to voice mail making John cursed silently. He hung up and dialled the number again. It went to voice mail a second time and his cursing became vocal causing an old lady that was passing the phone he was using to tut and shake her head at him. _Three's a charm Johnny,_ he thought as he dialled the number again and after what seemed like forever his son finally answered. "Where the hell were you?," he growled down the line at his eldest, his worry manifesting itself as ire at his son.

"I was in the john," came his son's bitten reply.

"What the hell were you doing in there that took you so long?" John realised the stupidity of the question but it was out so he had to let it hang there.

"Guess," Dean snorted at him. "The phone was in the wrong pocket to answer and I needed to wash my hands. What did you think I was doing?" And there it was the thousand dollar question that John would always come up with the same answer for now, no matter how hard he tried not to. He paused too long and Dean was onto him. "Or should that be who did you think I was doing?," his son asked with a certainty and sarcasm in his tone that told John that Dean had already decided on what his father had though he was up to. John bit his tongue, lest his thoughts be given life. Dean's tongue however managed to voice them for him. "I wasn't touting for business in broad daylight and for no reason if that's what you're worried about."

"For your sake, I damn well hope not! Besides, I didn't think that," John lied effortlessly. "…..and watch the tone Dean… and the mouth. Where are you?"

"Southside diner, it's on Elm."

"I'm coming to you."

"Thought we were going to split and cover more ground?"

"I changed my mind." John looked at the newspaper that he held in his grasp and knew that he had to go to Flagstaff, the feeling that it was where Sam was too strong to ignore.

"Oh, okay." Dean's tone was flat and this time John read his son's mind. The boy had added two and two and gotten six.

"It isn't a trust thing here Dean so don't make it one. Stay where you are, I'll be there in five."

* * *

><p>After their chat Dean had thought he was being trusted with being alone again as he wandered the streets of Holbrook busy checking all the diners and food shops for a sign of his brother. Closing the phone in his hand it now seemed though that he'd been wrong and his father had just wanted him out of his sight for a while so that he didn't have to look at him.<p>

He could still feel the weight of his father's disapproval on him as he leaned against the outside of the diner door, sheltering in the doorway from the rain. Up until now he had been surprised by John's reaction to his confession. Dean had been expecting anger, to have been bawled out or even tossed out permanently. He had been sure that he would come away with at least a fist to the face or a few bruises from a father disgusted by his son offering himself up on the streets no matter the reason behind it. He had expected this to be the time that he finally pushed the man into trying to beat the stupid out of him.

He thought about how he would have reacted to Sam coming to him with that sort of revelation,_ Sam wouldn't have done that,_ and well Dean would have done more than look disapprovingly at him. He'd have knocked him flat on his ass for starters, definitely have beaten the stupid out him. He wouldn't have sat him down and given him the 'I'm disappointed in you, don't do it again' slap on the wrists John had just delivered to him. Nor would he have given him a gift. And not just any gift. John had just given Dean one of his most prized possessions, he was sporting John's leather jacket which less than an hour ago had officially become _his_ leather jacket. John had tossed it at him with a 'keep it' that had Dean staring at him in open mouthed wonder until John had crossed the room and closed it with a hand to his son's jaw. "One time offer." Dean had it on and had been out the door instantly.

He hugged it closer as he stood waiting, fingers smoothing the leather as he did, mind racing. _Dad gave me his jacket, to keep. What the hell's up with that?_ John always wore it, Dean could only remember two maybe three times when he hadn't. _And he just handed it to me for no reason._ That was something John never did, all his actions and gifts had a purpose behind them. The loved and much coveted Colt that nestled against Dean's back had become a necessity and also his reward at age ten after he had to scare someone off with a shotgun filled only with rock salt when they had broken into their motel room when Dean was watching his brother. Even the Impala, which had been a sixteenth birthday present, had been given because more and more they had needed a place of last resort for them to shelter when John got held up on a hunt.

This though, this was something totally different. _Maybe it was some sort of twisted reward for promising not to do it again?_ Dean chuckled dryly at that thought. No, he decided, his father was acting weird, but not that weird. _He's in shock dude, no wonder with what he just learn his son was up to and with Sammy missing. Yeah, it's shock; he'll be kicking your ass for this as soon as he's got Sam back and his head on straight. Enjoy the reprieve while you can. _Dean nodded in agreement with his thoughts and touched the jacket again. _Ain't getting this back, ass kicking or not, it's mine now._ He let the smile rest on his face as he scanned the street for the Impala.

The smile slipped as his phone rang again and he reached for it with a sigh. "What now?," he grumbled.

* * *

><p>"We're going to Flagstaff." Both he and Dean spoke in unison as John drew up at the kerb and Dean hopped into the car.<p>

John shook his head. "You're not going," he informed his son as he closed the door. The older hunter held out his hand. "I need the phone."

Dean's eye became balls of incredulity. "What do you mean I'm not going? I got a call, the trucker that I hitched with….."

John frowned. "What about him?"

"….he was in Flagstaff. He's pretty sure that he saw Sam out on the edge of the town, near a building site off the I-40. He's gave me directions."

His father snatched the piece of paper from his hand. "Then give them to me. You're going back to the apartment. I need you there in case your brother calls."

"But he's in Flagstaff, not Lupton," Dean protested.

"Just do what I damn well tell you Dean!," John roared at his son. "I want you out of here." He knew that Dean had taken that the wrong way the instant he took time to look at the boy's face but he didn't stop to ease his son's mind. Opening his wallet he gave Dean three hundred dollars and a credit card. "Here, you pay the rent with the cash, _only_ use the card here to top the car up. You stay in the apartment and if you need any more cash you call me."

Dean crumpled the cash into his hand and shoved the card into his jacket pocket. "Yes sir," he answered sullenly not looking at John at all.

John headed back to the motel the silence in the car anything but amicable but he didn't bother to break it, he had other things on his mind.

* * *

><p>"Please don't make me leave." Dean pounced on John as he came out of the bathroom of the motel room. "I'm sorry, I am. I'll do anything you want me to, just don't send me back without my brother."<p>

John shoved by him and dropped his shaving stuff into his bag. "This isn't a punihsment Dean, it's not about what you did in Lupton. I need you to go back to the apartment in case Sam calls."

"You weren't worried he'd call before." Dean followed John over as he spoke. "One day, just let me come look for him for one day and if we don't find him I'll go then. Please." There was a desperate edge to the please that almost made John cave.

Almost.

"No, you're going to Lupton Dean. Don't make me repeat myself."

"He'll bolt if he sees it's just you," Dean grumbled behind him.

"Sorry?" John turned. "What do you mean by that?" He poked a finger in his son's chest. "It was you he lit out on, remember?"

Dean held his ground. "It's was your rules that he was fighting, not me. If I could have let him walk home on his own, or hell even got some money together earlier so that he could have gone to the stupid pictures with his stupid friends…." He ran a hand through his hair and turned away as he said the last part.

John wiped at his face biting back the anger that wanted out that Dean would somehow think it was okay to sell himself so that his brother could go to the damn pictures. "You're going to Lupton Dean, so pack your shit and get in the car and I want you to call me the minute you get there. Clear?"

Anger flashed through the boy's eyes but the rest of his face remained neutral "Crystal….sir." Walking over to the bed Dean shoved his few belongings into his bag. He stopped when the thought hit him. "How are you gonna get to Flagstaff without the car?"

John put his back to him. "I called Bobby."

There wasn't a sound behind him but John knew that Dean would be standing there with that wounded expression on his face. John wanted to tell his son that he would rather have him at his back than any hunter he knew but he wanted Dean away from here. John's gut feeling had been right, Sam was in Flagstaff and thanks to Dean's trucker friend John now had a smaller search area to cover. He was jolted from his thoughts by the noise of the motel room door slamming shut and then the Impala roared to life and tore out of the carpark. John sighed a heavy sigh, picked up his duffle and headed for the bus station. He'd called Bobby but the man wasn't coming to meet John, he was going to be waiting for Dean at Lupton. Knowing one son was safe would let him concentrate on making sure the other soon was to.

* * *

><p>The wind swung through the park like a maelstrom, the trees bowing and scraping to its superior strength which stripped their leaves away in fast moving circles that had them spiral upwards and away. The roof of Sam's little seated shelter rattled as the wind slid up and over it trying its best to strip away the tiles and leave him open to its fury. Behind the wind the storm marched towards him, pushing the dark clouds nearer and stealing the light until the lightning streaked them and lit up the empty park. Bones was tucked up close to Sam's side and the boy had to keep a hand in the dog's fur to keep it from bolting every time the lightning flashed and the thunder crashed around them. Sam wished he had gone back to the workman's cabin but it was still early and it could have meant him being discovered. So now he was stuck here until the freak storm decided to kill him or pass him by.<p>

A particularly loud clap of thunder sounded and the dog yelped its distress, lurching forward and breaking Sam's grip on him. Bones dashed out into the growing darkness disappearing almost instantly. Cursing Sam grabbed his bag and moved to the edge of his refuge. "Bones!," he called after the dog but if there was an answering bark he couldn't hear it over the noise of the storm. The first large spots of rain decided him on staying where he was for the time being and not giving chase. He moved further back inside his safe haven and dropped to the floor hugging his knees tight against him as he did. Suddenly he wished his little adventure was over. Sam used his free hand to dig into his pocket and pull out the note with both the apartment phone number and his father's cell phone on it in his brother's chicken scrawl.

He clutched it tight like the lifeline it was and then thrust it back into the safety of his pocket.

He'd made his point.

Ten days out on his own without as much as a scratch on him. _Showed them didn't I?, _he thought cowering as the lightning crackled across the sky again. He hadn't meant to string it out this long, disappear for a weekend just to get them worried and show them that he wasn't as helpless as they thought he was. That he was more than just book smart. So now he'd shown them that he could cope on his own but he'd learn that after the initial surge of happiness at his new found freedom that he was lonely, damn lonely.

He'd thought he was bored with Dean's company and constant vigilance but he was even more bored, and truth be told scared, without it. Worse still, he missed school; was missing school. Catching up was going to be a bitch although he was sure that John wasn't just going to ground him when he went home, he was going to put him on lockdown, maybe for forever, so catching up might not be that big a problem.

He knew that there was a phone box outside the main entrance to the park and he had kept the small amount of change that he'd had in his pockets. All he needed now was the balls to get across the storm ravaged green in front of him and out to the street.

As he sat there he actually missed his overprotective, overbearing big brother. He missed Dean's 'nothing can touch us' attitude and even his awful cooking. _Admit it Winchester, you miss your brother. Full stop. End of story. _

Taking a deep breath Sam tore across the open space in front of him, the wind dragging him sideways even as he did. He managed to reach the shelter of a group of trees on the far side ignoring the Dean sounding voice in his head that scolded him for sheltering in such a stupid place in a storm. Taking only a second or two to catch his breath he bolted to the park gates and slammed through them. The phone box was to his right so he moved over and tugged at the door, frowning when the wind seemed to change direction on purpose and stop him from being able to open it. He gave it one almighty tug and nearly ended up on his backside as it finally slid open. It was a relief to be inside, the box sheltering him again from the wind and the rain.

Standing there with the water dripping down his face from his soaking wet hair he reached into his pocket and pulled out the paper he had with the phone numbers on it. _Okay this is it,_ he thought. _Time to face the music. _He dropped some change into the slots and dialled the apartment number first, praying that his brother answered. It rang and rang. _He's out looking for me,_ was his first thought. _What if something happened to dad?_, was his second. He hung up and turned the piece of paper over. Sam tapped the phone with his hand. He didn't really want to talk to John first if he could avoid it, better to have Dean there as the buffer. That way John might not actually kill him for this little stunt. _What if he's killed Dean for losing you instead? _Sam paled at the thought but then recovered. No, Dean could never do anything wrong in John's eye. Dean was the perfect son. His dad might be angry at his brother for letting him get by him but the escape was going to be all down to Sam. Of that the younger Winchester had no doubt. He dialled the number and waited for an answer.

* * *

><p>Dean pulled to a stop at the intersection and waited until the few cars that were in his road went by. He looked at the two signs, fingers tapping on the car's wheel as the ones in his head turned. <em>Screw it.<em> He was already in trouble with his old man, what would one more indiscretion matter if it meant that he found his brother? The car behind him beeped and he raised his hand in acknowledgement easing his girl out across the road and in the direction of Flagstaff.

tbc


	8. Chapter 8

Don't faint, this is an update. It's been busy, busy, busy! Sorry for the delay folks but I hope you enjoy. Mary xx

* * *

><p>"Hello?" The sound of the angry growl in his father's voice almost made Sam hang up but the explosion of light and sound above him stayed his hand from dropping on the cradle and disconnecting the call.<p>

"Hello?" There was less of a growl this time and Sam realised that he should be saying something but he couldn't seemed to get his tongue to work round the words that he wanted to say.

"Sam?" Now there was a hope in John's voice. "Sam? Is that you?"

"Dad," he finally managed to say listening to what suspiciously sounded like, but couldn't be, a sob from his father.

"Where the **_hell_** have you been?," John asked his voice full of emotion but no anger. "Are you still in Flagstaff?"

_How did he know?, _Sam thought. _If he knew why hasn't he come got me,_ he pouted internally.

"Sam! Are you still there? **Answer me**!"

"Yeah," Sam replied instantly reacting to John's demanding tone of voice. "Yeah…..dad…..can you come get me….. _please_?" And didn't he just sound like the whiney thirteen year old bitch that his brother kept telling him he was. "There's a park…and a storm…." _And you know how I hate storms….at least, Dean knows how I hate storms…_

The line crackled and threatened to drop then his father's voice was in his ear again, concern in it this time. "Are you okay?"

"I don't like it here dad. I want to come home." _Can you sound more pathetic Winchester? Oh yes you can,_ he thought as he continued. "Please, can you or Dean just **come** and get me?"

The concern in John's voice deepened. "Is something wrong? Is there someone with you? Are you hurt?"

"No, no, nothing like that I just…..I…dad…..the weather's freaky here and there's this big storm….."

John heard the crack of thunder but the sound still wasn't loud enough to drown Sam's squeak of terror. Kid had always hated storms and perhaps he'd been right to. "Sam, I'm on my way, do you hear me? I'm on a bus and I'm coming to you. Can you get to the bus station?"

_Dad's on a bus? Where the hell is Dean? _"Yeah, no…I don't know. This storm's pretty bad….shit…..where's Dean?" _He's probably not coming because he's pissed at you. _"Dad? Dad?". He cursed as he realised the call had dropped. He tried to dial back but the number didn't even ring out this time.

"Sam? Sam?," John screamed into the phone drawing the looks of everyone else on the bus. He ignored them and dropped the phone into his lap, wishing now that he hadn't sent Dean away, that he had the car. He could be speeding to his youngest son instead of crawling to him on a crowded bus. He ran a hand through his hair and leant his head against the window and willed the bus faster.

* * *

><p>"I'm not stopping I don't care how much shit you throw at me," Dean screamed at the weather outside his window, righting the car as her back end stepped out on him as he forced her too fast into a corner. "Come on baby," he cooed at the Impala, easing back on the gas and shifting forward a little to try and see through the sheets of rain that hammered against the windshield and flooded the road. Any other time he would have searched for a parking area and pulled her over not wanting to risk either himself or his car by continuing but this wasn't any other time and so he ploughed on praying that the traffic wouldn't be stopped further ahead because he knew that if it was, he wouldn't see it until it was much too late.<p>

It seemed like an eternity before the city limit sign appeared out of the gloom but finally it did and Dean let out a little internal cheer that he was nearing his brother. He didn't need the written instructions that he had handed off to John, he had memorised every word of them and he unerringly wove his way through the streets and the traffic of the town. It was only the weather and the stupidity of other drivers that caused him to slow. Eventually the traffic thinned and Dean saw his goal rise into view. There was a large sign announcing the name of the construction company that Frank had mentioned and so Dean pulled the car over at the gates and killed the engine. The rain beat a tattoo on her roof as he opened the door and stepped out into the deluge. _Freaking weather,_ he groused as he turned up the collar on his jacket and ran for the nearest portacabin_._

There was a guy sitting at a desk as he opened the door and stepped through it. Dean raised a hand and used it to sluice the water from his hair the man looking up and frowning at him as he did. "We ain't hiring," he offered before looking back down at his paperwork.

"Not a job that I'm looking for," Dean replied reaching into his pocket and pulling the photo from it. "It's him," he continued placing the photo on the papers. "He was spotted here yesterday by a friend of mine. You seen him?"

The guy gave the photo a cursory glance. "Nope and the rest of the guys are gone for the day because of the god damn weather."

"Well can you take a better look for me?"

The man looked up the biting remark dying on his lips at the look on Dean's face. He dropped his eyes briefly back down to the photo and then shoved it back at him. "Like I said, I ain't seen him."

"Mind if I take a look round?"

"Knock yourself out, place is almost all locked up and I'm locking the rest up in an hour, you ain't out by then you ain't getting out."

"Asshole," Dean muttered under his breath as he turned and headed back out into the storm. He took a quick look round and then headed over to the two or three other cabins that were sitting on the other side of the yard. Climbing the steps of each one in turn, he wiped the dirt from the windows and peered in. There was no sign of Sam in any of them. Turning his head he saw that the office man was watching him so he resisted the temptation to get his lock picks and do a better search.

Defeated and more than a little down hearted he headed back to the car thinking that he could wait until the guy cleared out and the site was closed before he went back in and took a better look. If Sam was here Dean was sure that his brother was smart enough not to hang around during the day and get caught. He pulled his bag from the back seat and hunted through it for his picks coming up empty which could mean only one thing. Sam had boosted them. _When I find him, I'm gonna kill him,_ Dean cursed. Well he shrugged, he had stuff in the trunk he could use in their place and if subtle wasn't an option then he was going to just force his way in. Slamming the bag back down he circled to the driver's door and pulled the car back out onto the road. There had been a small diner that he'd passed not far from here and he thought that he could get a coffee and kill some time until he could come back and search.

* * *

><p>Sam was running through the storm as if the hounds of hell were after him. The wind whipped at him, dragging him almost off his feet as he headed into where he remembered he'd seen the bus station. He passed the diner that he'd been begging outside and took the next turn glad when it took him out of the wind a little if not the rain. Following the road down he smiled when he saw the lights of the bus station, his pace quickening as he neared, the need to get out of the weather almost as great as the thought of getting to be back with his family. For now he had forgotten how he hated his life because he hated this storm so much more. Slipping between the doors of the station it hit him that he had no idea what bus his father was on or when it would arrive. Scanning the walls he pulled the bit of paper from his pocket and headed in the direction of the bank of phones in the corner.<p>

John answered on the second ring, the relief sounding in his voice as he realised it was Sam. He took his time this time, giving Sam details of the bus he was on and when he thought it would pull in to Flagstaff. Telling his son to stay put in the station without making it seem like an order was a major effort for him but he seemed to manage it well enough and Sam seemed only too glad for once to obey. John hung up on his son hoping that his youngest had finally learned that however hard he thought their lives were, there were always worse ways to live. His contentment in the knowledge that he now knew where both his sons where was short lived however when he called Bobby to let him know that he had found Sam. The older hunter muttered his approval of that and then told John that Dean hadn't made it home yet.

"Could be the weather that's held him up," John offered flatly, scowling at the other man's snort.

"Yeah but since when was your luck that good?"

"Never," John huffed in reply. "You think he's gone to Flagstaff?"

"Bet good money on it John. Kid never quits on any hunt, can't see him quitting on the one for his brother."

"I gave him a damned order Bobby!" John's raised voice caused the other passengers to turn his way again but they quickly turned back as he glared at them.

Bobby shook his head even though his friend couldn't see him. "What part of _it's his brother_ escaped you there John?"

"None of it." John rested his head against the back of the seat in front. "Son of a bitch."

"John, just do me a favour?," Bobby asked quietly.

"What?"

"Don't kill 'em when you find 'em."

"I'll try," John muttered down the line thinking even filicide wouldn't solve most of his problems. "Call me if he turns up or calls okay?"

"Will do, and John….."

"What?"

"I don't like the signs in your area, so be careful."

John went to hang up but the sound of Bobby's voice stopped him. "Bobby?"

"I said if you need me, do like you told your son to do John and call me _before_ things get outta hand."

* * *

><p>Dean watched the waitress that had just came in strip her coat off and bend down to put her bag under the register. He buried his nose in his coffee and tried not to get caught taking a look as she straightened and turned towards him. She didn't look his way though just grabbed her apron and headed over to the girl that had served him.<p>

"You're late," the other girl, Lucy stated her name tag, said as the woman grabbed a cloth and started to clean the counter.

"I know. It's chaos out there. Weather is crazy, I'm almost glad to be in here." Dean tilted his head to read the name Jean on her badge.

The women chatted back and forward as they worked the counter until there was a lull and then they moved over next to where Dean was sitting.

"Saw your stray today," the one called Lucy said as she started to sort the menus and condiments that were sitting haphazardly on the counter.

"Did you feed him?," Jean asked quietly, looking over her shoulder and moving closer to her friend.

"Nah, he didn't stop, just headed past, looked like he was heading for the bus station, maybe he's decided to go home."

Jean gave her a pleased look and Dean was suddenly more interested in their conversation, deciding that maybe it wasn't a dog they were talking about like he had thought. "That would be good; boy's too young to be out here on his own," she continued, wiping the neck of a sauce bottle clean as she did.

"Excuse me." Dean waved to catch their attention and Lucy smiled at him and grabbed the coffee pot. "You need a refill honey?"

"No." He dug in his pocket. "Sorry I was listening to you talking and I wondered if this is the boy that has been here?" He handed the photo to Jean and held his breath.

She took a minute or two to look at it and then raised her eyes to his. "You wouldn't be Dean, would you?"

"Yeah." His face lit up. "Yeah I'm Dean. That's my brother Sam. So you've see him?"

"Well your brother has been begging at our back door for the last few days." Jean gave him a stern look over and then her expression softened as guilt ate at the hope in his eyes. "You've been out looking for him?"

Dean nodded. "You mention a bus station? Can you tell where it is?" He was already on his feet as Jean pointed out the way for him.

Jean laughed at his hurry, grateful that here at least was someone who obviously cared about the boy, Sam, she had been feeding. She was just wondering why the kid had made a break in the first place when Dean stuck his head back in the door. "Thank you!," he shouted across the crowded diner at her shooting her a smile that left her a little weak at the knees before he disappeared back outside and tore off down the road.

"If I was ten years younger," she laughed to Lucy as she passed her.

"It'd still be a crime, now if it was twenty….."

Jean slapped her with a wet cloth, laughed and then with one last look out the window she went back to work.

* * *

><p>Sam shifted again so that he could keep watching the man that he knew had been watching him since he'd sat down on the bench to wait for his father's arrival. There was something strange about the man's eyes, a glint of gold that brought Sam's dreams back to him and both chilled and fascinated the young boy at the same time. He knew that there were creatures out there that disguised themselves as people, creatures that you could only tell what they were if you looked beneath the surface and saw the gleam of what lay hidden underneath. He was sure that he could see this creature's gleam. He didn't however know what kind of creature this man was and that meant he had no idea how to kill it. He dismissed his lack of knowledge as pointless anyway because there was no way he could do anything to it, not without more than his brother's hunting knife and not in broad daylight in a busy bus station. That hopefully meant though that it couldn't do anything to him either.<p>

He had sat next to a family, ashamed that he was making them shields but not wanting to get caught alone. When he could see that they were getting ready to move he got ready too. They stood and moved away from him and Sam froze, bag in hand, as the man started to walk slowly in his direction, a small smile playing on his lips as he did.

Sam stood too, looking quickly after the family, wondering it he should follow them or stand his ground when he realised that the man had stopped, his eyes raised to look at something or someone behind where Sam stood. The smile dropped from his face, twisting into something altogether uglier as he threw Sam a small salute and turned, walking away with only one look of bitter disappointment cast back over his shoulder in Sam's direction.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief, his attention so caught by the retreating back of the man that he failed to register the call of his name the first time. The second call had him turning with a grin spreading over his face as he saw who it was that was coming towards him.

"Dean!," he cried out, moving towards his brother. Dean was striding towards him but it wasn't a look of happiness that graced his brother's face; it was a mix of extreme relief and extremely pissed off.

"You little shit!," his brother shouted at him his hand snaking out to snatch at Sam's jacket and haul him in. "What the hell Sam?," Dean cursed as he kept reeling his brother in, a hand going over Sam's shoulder and pulling him into a bear hug that left the younger boy fighting for air as his head was smothered into Dean's shoulder. Sam slid his arms round under his brother's and returned the hug, both boys standing like that until Dean finally pushed him off and back against the wall. "Stupid, stupid, little shit! You ever, and I mean ever do that to me again and I'm gonna kick your ass for you. You hear me?," Dean barked at Sam taking his jacket and shaking him, anger now the only emotion on his features.

Sam couldn't help it, he pushed Dean off and glared at him. "Told you I could look after myself," he hit back a little too smugly.

That pushed his brother's last button and earned him a slap across the head. "Why you….," Dean growled at him, tightening his grip and hauling Sam back towards him. "See if you can look after yourself when I'm finished with you!"

"Get off me!" Sam tried to wriggle free from Dean's grip but found he couldn't.

"Is there a problem here boys?"

They turned as one Dean instantly letting Sam go and smiling sweetly at the man behind them.

"Problem officer? No. We were just waiting on our dad coming in on the next bus. Mom sent us to get him."

Sam nodded. "We were just horsing around."

"We'll don't," the officer grumbled at them. "Sit down and don't have me come to talk to you again."

"Yes sir," they replied in unison, Dean sitting down and dragging his brother with him.

The police officer eyed them until something else caught his attention and he wandered off.

"You're a dead man," Dean hissed at his brother and punched him hard on the arm.

Sam slapped him back in return. "Jerk!"

"Bitch!," Dean spat back. "Dad is gonna have your ass when he gets here."

"I can handle dad!"

"That should worth watching, don't expect me to help you either, cause this time….you're on your own." Dean punched him again and Sam shoved him back.

"I don't need your help!"

"Good, cause you ain't getting it."

"Good." Sam folded his arms across his chest and huffed his hair out of his eyes wondering why he'd ever thought he'd missed his brother. "It was your fault anyway," he muttered.

Dean turned to him and Sam couldn't help shuffling away a little at the look his brother shot him. "Always is."

They sat in silence after that until Sam had to ask. "So is dad really pissed at me?"

"Duh!," Dean snorted. "You're supposed to be the smart one, what do you think? I mean I had to call him in the middle of a hunt to tell him you'd bailed on me."

"Oh." Sam really wanted to leave again at the thought of a pissed off John Winchester.

"You'll be luck if you ever get to see daylight again," his brother finished not making him feel one bit better.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

A quicker, but shorter, update this time. Enjoy and thank you for the reviews! Mary x

* * *

><p>Tiredness and the stretched silence between them finally had Sam drift off. His head nodded forward a few times until he felt a hand on his arm pulling him against the solid form of his big brother.<p>

"Get some sleep, I'll wake you when dad gets here," Dean whispered softly and Sam obeyed, settling into the comfortingly familiar form, head resting on his brother's shoulder.

"Just don't drool on my new jacket though dude."

Sam snorted and wiped his face against the leather only to sit back up and stare at it. "Wait, your jacket. No way! Dad gave you his jacket?"

There was a smug look on Dean's face as he nodded. "Yup."

"Why?"

Dean sighed. "Not really sure and anyway if I was it'd be a long story."

"Take it he's not mad at you then?," Sam asked, a huge yawn killing the bitter edge to his tone.

"Oh, he's plenty mad at me," Dean said quietly. "Just get some sleep."

"Sure he is, suck up," Sam teased and settled back in, avoiding Dean's elbow to the ribs that he knew would be coming.

"Shut up, just because I don't feel the need to start world war three at breakfast every morning does not make me a suck up."

"He starts it…."

"…and you just have to finish it."

"Don't…"

"Yeah you do. Now drop it and get some sleep."

They sat there like that for the next half an hour, Sam lulled into a deep sleep by the presence of his brother and Dean on lookout for John. He shot the occasional glance down at his brother's head grateful that Sam was there even if he was now indeed drooling on Dean's new acquisition. Shifting a bit so that he could wipe the worst of it off he looked back up and started to scan the crowds. The feeling that they were being watched had been creeping up his spine since Sam had dozed off. Dean cast his eyes round the gathered throng to see if he could catch someone staring but everybody seemed to just be going about their own business so soon he too settled back, lifting his arm to drape over his brother like a protective wing as he did. _It's not a cuddle,_ he told himself even as he tucked Sam tighter in against him and let his mind drift.

* * *

><p>John could see them. They were sitting together on the seats near the back wall of the station. Sam was sleeping against his brother, Dean's arm throw protectively over him, hand fisted in the sleeve of Sam's jacket like he would never let go again. Dean looked to be relaxed and drifting too but John could see his eyes following the people that came close, see the tension in him as he look over and saw him. John walked towards them, watching Dean nudge his brother awake and pulling his arm free as Sam sat up and wiped at his face. There was a brief exchange of words and then both of them rose to their feet, Dean automatically stepping forward to place himself neatly between them.<p>

"You okay?," John asked his youngest.

"Yes sir.".

"Good." John raised his eyes to Dean. "Where's the car?"

"Coupla blocks from here."

"Keys."

Dean fished them from his pocket and handed them to his father.

John turned and walked away stopping when he realised that they were still standing there looking at one another, both with a 'is that it?' expression on their faces. "Move it! We don't have all day you know."

Dean shouldered Sam's bag and shoved his brother in front of him.

"Hey," Sam protested as he almost tripped over his own feet. "Don't push me!"

"You heard the man," Dean said moving along side him and falling into step. They exchanged another look and Dean just shrugged at the question in his brother's eye. "Public place," he muttered as they followed their father out. "He'll kill us some place quiet."

Sam rolled his eyes but didn't argue with his brother's assessment, fearful that it might be true.

* * *

><p>"In the back, both of you," John commanded as he opened the car up and slid in behind the wheel.<p>

Dean looked like he was going to protest and their father stepped up against him. "Tell me again why you decided to disobey an order and come to Flagstaff instead of going back to Lupton like I told you?," the man asked so civilly that it made all the hairs on Sam's neck stand on end. He tugged his brother's sleeve and both boys slid into the back.

Once on the road the inquisition began. Sam had to account for almost every single minute that he had been away. He noticed his brother catch John's eye in the mirror when their father demanded to know what he had done for money. Something passed between them that Sam couldn't quite work out and then it was gone, replaced by a mutual look of relief on both their faces when Sam explained he'd scrounged off the workers and the woman at the diner for food. John scowled his disapproval when Sam haltingly told him he had stowed to get to both Holbrook and then Flagstaff.

The questioning changed after that and Sam knew just how mad John was by the tone of the first one.

"So, do you think it's acceptable for me to get pulled away in the middle of a hunt because you throw a hissy fit about going to the damn pictures?"

Sam started to speak but Dean kicked him hard, a warning look in his eye. Sighing quietly Sam answered with the expected retort. "No sir."

John continued. "Do you think it's acceptable that your brother has spent nights out in this weather putting himself at risk to look for you, worrying that something had happened to you?"

"No sir, sorry sir." He couldn't keep the edge out of his voice that time and got an elbow in the ribs for it. He turned to scowl at his brother. Dean scowled right back.

"Ain't me that you have to say sorry too. It's your brother."

"Sorry Dean," Sam muttered turning to look out the window at the passing scenery and beginning to wish that he was back in his cabin with his dog and his cold pizza.

"And it's the people that could be dead now because I had to leave what I was doing and hunt down your sorry ass instead of the werewolf that was rampaging through their town," John continued with his lecture.

Sam had had it. "And how am I supposed to do that?"

Dean sighed and John turned to glare at his youngest son. "By helping me hunt it down and kill it. You're coming with me on the hunt."

Both boys' eyes widened.

"What?," Sam choked out. He'd never been on a real hunt and honestly with the state that his dad and Dean came back from them, he never wanted to be.

"You can't take him on a werewolf hunt," Dean started. "He's only thirteen for Christ sakes!"

"You were eleven…and watch the tone Dean.."

"So, that was different, I'd done loads more hunts than he has before that!"

"Then maybe it's about time your brother started to pull his weight in this team and not expect to get a free ride."

"Fine, then he stays with me on it." Dean folded his arms and returned John's death glare.

"No he won't because you won't be there."

"What?" That was Sam this time, beating his brother to the question.

"Dean's going with Bobby. You are coming with me. It's settled and no amount of arguing is going to change my mind."

"I'm going with Bobby? Why?" Dean was forward now, leaning on the back of the passenger seat, fingers gripped into the leather. "You can't take him on his first big hunt on your own. He'll get hurt."

"So, you got hurt but you got back up again and right back into it."

"Yeah, well Sam's not me." Dean changed tact. "All he'll do is whine and slow you down."

"Hey! I do not whine!"

Dean turned to him. "Yeah, you do." He turned back to John. "Don't do this, please. Not like this. I get you're angry with him, I'm angry with him. So ground him, keep him at Bobby's for a while. Don't drag him on a hunt that he's not ready for."

John turned to answer his eldest but didn't get the chance to speak.

Sam placed a hand on his brother's arm. "It's okay, I'll do it."

Dean turned on his brother so viciously that Sam backed into the door. "No you damn well won't!," he growled.

"Dean!" John snarled. "Enough. He's going."

"Dad…."

"ENOUGH!" John's roar reverberated round the car, the silence it created in its wake thick enough to almost taste. Dean turned to Sam with a distraught look on his face but a fire in his eyes that told the younger Winchester that this argument was far from over. Sam just shrugged at his brother and leant back against the door. No one said another word until they reached Lupton and Bobby.

* * *

><p>"Gotta agree with the kid on this one John, Sam's not ready for a hunt like that on his own with you. Why don't you take Dean, let him guide him, show him the ropes. It would free you up to maybe get the jump on the thing."<p>

"If I take Dean he'll be so damned busy making sure that his brother doesn't get hurt that he'll forget to cover his own back. It's easier this way. Sam and I are doing this alone. End of discussion. I'm leaving in an hour."

Dean ran a hand through his hair and gave Bobby a beseeching look. The older hunter shrugged but tried again. "He'll slow you down."

John stood. "Boy needs to learn sometime, and that time is now. Dean, do you think you can manage to follow a damn order this time and get to where I send you?"

"Dad….."

Ignoring the plea in the word John continued on. "Bobby's got some jobs that he needs done around the place and I owe him one so you are going to pay him back for me. He's got a few trucks that he'll show you how to work on and the Impala needs a few bits of work done on her. I expect it finished by the time we get back."

"Yes sir," Dean spat out finally realising that resistance was futile. He headed for the door, stepping outside and slamming it shut behind him. Dropping to the step next to his brother he buried his head in his hands.

"Hey, I can do this," Sam started. "Dad won't let anything happen to me, you know that."

Dean lifted his head and looked out across the carpark. "Do I?" He lifted his shirt and ran a finger down the scar that circled round his back and to his side. "That was dad looking after me on my first real hunt."

Sam paled a little as the memory hit him of a frantic John arriving back at Bobby's that night with Dean lying in his arms dripping blood. He shivered and sidled into his brother. "I'll be careful. Like he said, I'm gonna have to do it some time. What I don't get is why you aren't coming with us?"

Letting out a pained chuckle Dean ran his hands down his legs and then stood. "I do. I let you slip by me Sam and then dad found out…." He stopped and let out a sigh. "You getting dragged on this hunt on your own , that's my punishment too."

The door opened behind them and Bobby stepped out. He placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Sorry kid, I tried but the man is not for turning. You ready to roll?"

"Yeah. Just give me a minute."

"Okay. I really could use your help around my place for a while," Bobby said with a smile that Dean almost returned. The older man stepped to his truck and Dean pulled Sam to his feet.

"You stay behind dad at all times okay? You do **exactly** what he tells you, when he tells you. There isn't room for a discussion when you're hunting Sam. He's in charge, if you don't like it, bitch at him after the fugly is dead. You hear me?"

"I'll be fine," Sam answered. "I'll do as I'm told. Promise."

"That'll be a first." Dean looked over to where Bobby was waiting. "I want a call every night."

"Yes mom."

Dean laughed and mussed his brother's hair with his hand. "Brush your teeth and in bed by nine."

Sam went to punch him but Dean caught his fist and pulled him in. "Be careful. Make sure he's careful too," he said, all playfulness gone.

"I will," Sam answered solemnly.

With that Dean pushed Sam hard on the chest and let go, his brother falling back on his backside on the step with a yelp. "So easy," Dean smirked as he stepped away.

"Ass," Sam muttered as he sat there and watched his brother speak briefly to Bobby and climb into the car. He didn't move until the truck and the Impala pulled out and then he stood and headed back into the motel room, as happy as a man going to the gallows.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

Sorry,sorry, sorry that this had been so long in arriving and that it's quite short but these last few weeks have been hectic. The girls that I work with have been ill so it has been work, work, work and then sleep for the last three weeks! finally got a chance to sit down and take this one on. Thanks for your patience and for all your support. Luv ya! Mary x

* * *

><p>Bobby shot Dean a look over the table as the phone that sat there rang. <em>Here we go, <em>he thought as he watched the younger man reach for the cell and let the call connect. Straight away the older man knew that there was trouble and he moved into the living room to give Dean the freedom to talk to what would undoubtedly be Sam while still being near enough to intervene if he thought it was required.

"**I hate him!,**" Sam half spat, half sobbed down the phone at his elder brother.

Dean took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. "What did he do?," he almost sighed down the line. "You aren't hurt are you?," he added as an afterthought. He knew that there was no way could Sam be injured, it was their first day there and there was no moon so, no werewolf. Still, he felt he had to ask.

"No," came back the huffed reply.

"Ok-ay, so what then?" Dean held his breath to see what the hell John had done to his brother that had him in such a state after barely a day without him.

"He took me on the interview with him. Told them he was tracking the thing that had killed the guy, said that it had got a friend of his a couple of months back and he had been trying to hunt it down even since. Said he had almost had it but then he'd been called away on urgent family business. Said that he was sorry that he was kept from killing it before it had killed her husband and the kid's dad." The rant ended on a sob.

Dean's head was spinning. "Wait, dad told them that he was tracking this thing? Man that's as close as admitting what we do as he ever has!" He reckoned that John couldn't exactly be a reporter or a cop with Sam in tow. That thought and a displeased noise from Sam at his comments brought him back to the more immediate problem of his upset brother. "So, why did he take you?," he asked thinking that maybe he already knew the answer to that question.

"So that I could listen to this woman sobbing her heart out and telling him how much she missed her wonderful husband and the kid bawling his eyes out over his dad's death and know that it was because mine was looking for me and I quote 'not getting the damn job done'."

Dean rolled his eyes and cursed quietly. _Was their dad trying to get the kid to book again?_

"And then he….he….."

_Oh God__, there's more? _"What did he do?," he asked knowing that he probably didn't want to know.

"He took me to the morgue…showed me the body." Sam pulled in a long, snotty breath. "Well the remains of the body."

"He did what!" Dean wanted to go find them and hurt his father in the worst way. "Why the hell did he do that?"

"So that I could see what my act of childish rebellion had cost." Sam sobbed again and blew his nose. "I hate him. I wish I'd stayed lost in Flagstaff!"

"No you don't." Dean said firmly and took a calming breath. "Hey, the guy probably would have bit it anyway Sam, dad's just being an ass." He was aware that Bobby was now hovering behind him but he didn't turn and acknowledge him. "Was it bad?" _What kinda dumb question is that?, _he chided himself as he waited for Sam's answer.

"It was….he…..it had ripped him open and…and…" Sam didn't finish but Dean didn't need him too, he had seen plenty of werewolf victims. This unfortunately though was Sam's first dead body, human one anyway. _Way to go dad, break him in gently why don't you?_

"Is dad there?"

"No. He's out scouting. Told me that if I as much as opened the door he's gonna tie me to a tree and use me as bait!"

Laughter verging on the edge of mild hysteria bubbled up in Dean's throat and he had to try real hard not to snort. _Yeah, that sounded like dad. _"Does this mean that he isn't taking you on the hunt?," he asked hopefully.

"Dunno, he said he be back before it got dark but he didn't say anything about me hunting with him. Yet that is. Dean?"

The elder boy froze. He knew the tone of that 'Dean'. _Crap, here it comes._

"I don't want to be here, can you….can you come get me?"

_Fuck! Knew it. _"Sam….."

It was all he got out before a hand landed on his shoulder and the phone was wrenched from his grasp. Bobby knew the tone of that Sam too.

"Sam," Bobby started as he pushed off Dean's attempt to get the phone back. "I know that you ain't asking your brother to get himself into trouble with your old man and come get you. Are you?"

"Bobby, I was just…..dad….."

"Son, I know what you where just doing and I'm sorry if your dad is being hard on you, I am, but I ain't letting your brother come after you again. You made your own bed here Sam, so I think it's time you lay on it. Just need to suck it up like Dean always has to, help your daddy get the job done and then you can both get your asses back here. Then, if I think that his treatment of you merits it, I'm gonna have a word with John but until then, you're on your own kiddo."

"I want to talk to Dean…..," Sam demanded petulantly.

"Be seeing you Sam. Remember to call your brother when you get back from the hunt, stop him worrying himself to death." With that the older hunter closed the phone and threw it on the table. "Dinner'll be ready in twenty minutes, go finish up what you're doing in the yard and come in and get cleaned up. Show you how to do that welding in the morning."

Dean cast a look at the phone but Bobby wagged his finger at him. "Nope, you call him back and he'll whine at you until you cave and then I'll need to lock you up in the basement for the next week or until they get back. Don't think I won't either." Bobby walked over to the entrance to the living room and then stopped. "So what's the problem anyway?"

The younger man stood with a sigh. "Dad took him to meet the grieving relatives then he took him to the damn morgue to show him the guy that got ripped apart. He told Sam it was his fault." He ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah that sounds like John. Dean, that brother of yours needs a wake up call if he's gonna get on in this life, needs to know that everything is not all about him. Boy needs a bit of tough love Dean, you're too damn soft on him, let him get away with too much."

"He's thirteen Bobby and our lives are shit...…."

The older hunter nodded. "I know Dean, I know but I remember you being thirteen too Dean. Ask me, Sam's a damn lucky thirteen year old."

Dean cast his eyes up in Bobby's direction. "Don't want to adopt two sons do you?," he asked only half jokingly.

"What? You mean I haven't already?" Bobby chuckled softly and sat down opposite Dean at the table.

"He took him to the morgue Bobby, what was he thinking?" Dean's eyes slipped to the Impala's keys that were lying between them.

Bobby took them and put them in his pocket. "They both push each other too hard. I ain't letting you get crushed in the middle Dean." He stood and walked towards the living room and stopped. "Not this time at least. Go finish up and then come eat." He smiled crookedly at the younger man. "And don't even think of hotwiring her because if I have to come get your ass I promise you, it won't be pleasant."

Dean sloped out to the yard and walked over to his car, dropping his arms on the roof and then his head onto them. If he didn't know that Bobby would hold good on his threat to lock him up and toss the key he would just get in the car and go but he knew from experience that the older hunter was not a man to be messed with. Even John had had his head handed to him on more than one occasion when he'd forgotten his place and had to be reminded.

So, despite what his heart was telling him he did what his head wanted for once. Pushing off the car he crossed the yard back to the junker Bobby had set him to work on and got his head down and lost himself in the task.

Bobby watched him from the window, cursing both of the other Winchester's for managing to drop Dean in the middle even without him having to be there. He looked at the phone and had to steal himself from phoning his friend and telling him to get his act together and remind him that he was the kids father not their damn drill sergeant. Instead he settled for finishing making dinner and putting a note in his mental diary to kick John's ass for him when he got back.

* * *

><p>Sam was curled up on the bed with his back to the door when John got back. He didn't move or acknowledge his father's presence but the older man knew that he wasn't sleeping. Dropping his bag on the other bed John sat down on the edge of it. He waited for any sign of life from his son and when none was forthcoming he leant across and placed his hand on Sam's back giving him a firm push. "Sam!"<p>

The form on the other bed rose and slammed himself into the bathroom before a stunned John could stop him. The door lock flicking into place was like a starting gun though and the hunter pushed himself off the bed and crossed the room in two strides. "Get your backside out of there! RIGHT NOW!"

The door opened to reveal a red faced Sam. "What?"

John took a breath so that he could ignore the tone and not fall right into a fight with his youngest before he'd even taken his jacket off. "Get your jacket and we'll go and get something to eat."

Sam pushed past him and climbed up on the bed again, pulling his knees up and hugging them to his chest. "I'm not hungry."

"Didn't ask if you were hungry I said we were going to get something to eat." He picked up his son's jacket from the chair that it was hung over and threw it at him. "Get up."

Dragging his jacket on Sam shoved his feet into his shoes and just stood there with his arms crossed.

John walked to the door and opened it but didn't say a word.

The impasse went on for a good few minutes until John's patience broke. "Out!"

Sam stomped by him and across to the passenger side of the truck.

Sighing John followed him. It was going to be a long night.

The restaurant was thankfully quiet and John ordered for the both of them while Sam continued to ignore him and stare out of the window. "Take it you phoned Dean?"

There was silence.

"Whine to him about how horrid I am and how you hate me?"

That got him a flick of Sam's eyes toward him.

"Dean…..," John started in a high voice that caused Sam to roll his eyes. "Daddy shouted at me…daddy was mean to me…daddy took me to the morgue…." He changed his voice back to his normal one. "Whine to him like a girl didn't you?"

"Didn't!," Sam spat at him and turned back to the window.

"Did too!," John shot back sounding so like Dean that Sam had to fight the little smile off his face.

"Not!," he answered back.

John raised an eyebrow.

"Did," Sam muttered.

John laughed at that. "So, should I be expecting your brother any time soon?"

Sam shook his head.

"No?" There was shock in the tone.

"Bobby told me to suck it up, that he wasn't letting Dean come get me."

John laughed again. _Score one for Bobby and that's me in the shit. _The waitress arrived with their food and they just stared at one another until John looked away to smile at and thank her. "Eat," he said to his youngest pushing the pizza he'd order towards him.

Sam sat for a second or two but then the smell and his stomach got the better of him. He snatched a slice and shoved it into his mouth.

John shook his head, tutting and pushing the cutlery across to Sam too. "Who do you think you are? Dean? Use a damn knife and fork."

"For pizza?"

John glared.

"Yes sir," Sam muttered round his mouth full earning another tut. He kept his eyes down on what he was eating until he realised that his father wasn't using his cutlery. Raising his head to call him on it Sam was met with a grin.

"Rule number one of hunting; do as I say, not as I do." John stuck a piece of pizza into his own mouth and chewed for a second then spoke. "So you ready to go on a real hunt? If you want out, now's the time to call it."

Sam scowled at the way John delivered the out to him. "I'm ready," he answered back sharply not knowing if the little shiver running through him was fear or anticipation.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

Okay so this part was suppose to have the hunt in it but it grew too long! This is a little chapter with Bobby and Dean and then we will get to Sam, John and the hunt.

Thanks as always for your reviews and for the alerts that have gone on this recently too. Mary xx

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><p>Bobby was only half surprised to find that Dean hadn't done a runner during the night when he came downstairs to find him at the kitchen table in the morning. He had the guts of what looked like it might have been some sort of tape machine in his hands and a frown on his face that brightened to a smile as he registered the other man' s presence. "Hey Bobby."<p>

"What you got there?"

"Walkman's bust, I'm trying to fix it." He held up a twisted piece of plastic. "'cepts I have no idea what this is."

Bobby chuckled and held his hand out, examining the piece that Dean dropped into his palm. He raised his eyes and then looked at the bits of guts that littered the top of his table. "Yeah? Good luck with that. Be better trying to build something from scratch with it. Something useful."

Dean looked at the debris, a little look in his eye that showed he liked that idea but he just shrugged his acknowledgement and swept the remains into a box and popped the lid on it.

"You okay?"

"Fine. Why?"

Bobby moved round to lay a hand on Dean's forehead drawing a sigh from the younger man. "You sure, 'cos that don't feel like okay to me. Running a little hot there and spare me the comedy okay. Flu or infection?," he asked scanning Dean for any injuries that he might have missed.

Dean pulled away from the older man's touch. "It's just a cold, been hanging around for a couple of days. It's nothing."

"Remember that when you've got a 101 fever and you've got ice packs strapped to you."

That got a little smile and a shake of the head. "It's not that bad, honest."

Bobby snorted. "If you say so. So what do you say to coffee and eggs and then we go see about putting that truck back in one piece?"

Dean walked over to the sink and handed Bobby the frying pan in answer watching as the older hunter took it and then scowled up at him. "What have I told you about cleaning this? Spoils the damn taste!"

"It walked into the sink on its own, nothing to do with me," the young hunter deadpanned. "Think they were about to name a new life form after you though." He dodged the swipe at his head and picked up the coffee pot. "Coffee's already made."

"How long you been up?," Bobby asked glancing at his watch.

"Since five, couldn't sleep."

"Son your brother is gonna be fine. Your daddy ain't gonna let that werewolf get him, you know that."

Dean just shrugged and reached for the cups.

Knowing that he couldn't say anything that would ease the kid's worrying Bobby did the next best thing. He cooked.

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><p>It was a glorious day outside. March was, true to the saying, going out like a lamb after the last few weeks of wild weather. The afternoon sun was a pleasant, if watery, warmth on their backs as Dean and Bobby worked together on the old truck.<p>

"Okay Yoda, teach me the ways of the force," Dean asked waving the welding torch at his elder companion and getting ignored as Bobby continued setting up the gas cylinder for him to show Dean how to weld the joints that needed fixing.

When he was satisfied Bobby raised his head and stared at his young companion. "You'll be feeling the force of my toe up your backside if you wave that at me again," he grumped good naturedly as he threw gloves, overalls and goggles at Dean. "Okay princess, sorry this ain't no gold bikini but it's best to cover up your white bits using this so's that they don't toast. Let's get this show on the road."

"I knew it!," Dean shouted triumphantly. "I knew that you'd watched Star Wars! Wait? Princess? Bikini?" A little look crossed his eye and he held up the overalls. "Will my ass look big in these?"

"Nope," Bobby shot back casually, "…cos that big head of yours'll keep everything in proportion. Now get changed and get over here. Idjit!"

They settled down to work and soon Bobby was nothing but a casual spectator as Dean did with the welding what he had done with everything else that the elder hunter had shown him. He picked it up like it was something that he had been doing all his life. "That's real good son," Bobby offered when he inspected the work the younger man had finished not missing the pleased look that settled on Dean's face. Not wanting that head to get any bigger than it had to be he pointed out a few small flaws but let the kid know that other than those he didn't think that he could have done better himself.

He fetched a couple of beers and planted himself on the hood of the truck Dean moving in to rest by his side.

"So," Bobby started, not wanting to spoil the pleasantness between them but knowing that he wouldn't get a better time to get Dean to open up to him than now. "What exactly happened back in Lupton that got your dad's panties in such a twist about leaving you boys on your own?"

Dean's easy good nature vanished like it had been blown away on the breeze and tension filled the lines on his face. "How'd you mean?," he asked cagily.

"Well you boys have been out on the road for years and for years I've been nagged your daddy to get some sort of plan in place in case he got held up or hurt on a hunt and couldn't get back to you. Been ignored with a 'Dean can manage' right up until Lupton when suddenly he's on the phone and planning a chain of command for you to call if he's late. So what gives?"

Dean scuffed his foot across the floor. "Sam split on me isn't that enough to get him organising the troops?"

Bobby just looked at him.

Dean's face flushed and Bobby didn't think it was all down to the fever that the boy was now definitely running. "I screwed up and had to do something he didn't like; can we leave it at that?"

Moving a little closer Bobby nodded. "Okay. If you want to tell me, you can tell me. Just remember if you boys ever need me or my help, you can call me, even before you call your daddy. Don't care what time it is or how far you are away. Understand?"

Dean shifted uncomfortably, running a hand over the back of his neck and looking up at Bobby. "I know."

"Then do it next time okay?"

"What did dad tell you?," the younger man asked turning to look out over the yard and putting his back to Bobby, the tension in him spreading now.

"Not much, just that he was worried about you boys coping when he was held up. I was just curious what triggered the concern, that's all." All the alarm bells that warned Bobby when something was seriously off were ringing but he could see that Dean wasn't going to tell him and he wasn't going to push. God knows everybody else in his life pushed the boy, he wasn't about to join them.

Dean relaxed a little. "Is it okay if I go into town for a while?," he asked stripping off his overalls and gloves.

"You ain't under house arrest here son, you're a guest, albeit I'm gonna work you to pay for your keep. No charge for the company though 'cos that priceless."

He didn't get the smile he expected, instead something passed through Dean's eyes, a sad little look that had Bobby trying to take apart what he'd just said but then it was gone replaced by the smile and a shake of his head as he held out his hands for the car keys that Bobby still had on him.

"Be back before it gets dark alright?," the older man asked as he pressed the keys into the offered flesh.

"Yeah, alright." Dean walked out to where the Impala was parked and turned with a more genuine smile on his face. "Bobby? Thanks."

The older man looked confused. "For what?"

Dean shrugged. "Just….thanks." With that he got in the car and the hunter watched until it disappeared.

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><p>Bobby sat bolt upright in bed, his hand automatically reaching for the shotgun that lay propped against the leg of the headboard, not sure what had torn him from his sleep. He checked the gun, dropped his legs over the side of the bed and shoved his feet into his slippers.<p>

He heard the next shout and it had him running in the direction of the room that Dean lay in, foot shoving the door open as he raised the gun to chest height. His eyes adjusted to the gloom and Bobby relaxed as he could see that everything was as it should be apart from the body that was tossing and turning on the bed. Laying the gun down next to the door the older man walked quietly over to the bed only to jump as Dean let out a shout. "I said get the hell off me!"

Even in the poor light Bobby could see the shimmer of sweat on the kid's skin. "Fine my ass," he muttered as he moved nearer, reaching under the pillow and retrieving Dean's knife before the boy tried to introduce him to the business end of it. Been there, done that.

"Dean?," he called softly, laying the knife on the bedside table and sitting on the edge of the bed as he did.

Dean shifted, his face screwing up as he spoke again. "You got what you paid for. You want anything else and you are shit outta luck!" The boy spat the last part out and Bobby frowned. The words slowly sunk in and suddenly he got it, John's panic, Dean's nervousness, and the knowledge settled like a cold hand on his soul. He put two and two together and wished that they didn't make four. No wonder John had freaked if Dean was talking about what Bobby thought that he was.

"Dean!" Bobby tried harder this time to wake him not wanting to hear more fevered ramblings that Dean wouldn't want him to and couldn't help but he was pushed away as he reached for the arm that was next to him.

"We're done here! Get off me!" Bobby could only sit and watch as Dean twisted his arm behind him, his first thought was that Dean was reliving what someone had done to him and then he realised that the kid was reaching for where his gun would normally be. Panicking fleetingly that maybe the gun was indeed in the waistband of Dean's sweats he grabbed the boy's wrist and held it gently down. "Kid, wake up!"

Dean fought the hold and Bobby leaned forward whispering reassurances that he was safe in the younger man's ear. "Jesus Christ kid, what the hell did you do?," he asked in the same quiet tone to the sleeping form in front of him. He placed his hand gently on Dean's forehead as the nightmare eased and the boy calmed under his touch, dropping back into a more restful sleep. The skin beneath his fingers burned with the fever that lit up Dean's features but it was the words he'd heard that put a fire inside the older hunter. "Your daddy and I are gonna have a long talk when he gets back here."

Waiting until Dean had quietened down completely he stood and fetched a wash cloth and wiped the sweat from the boy's face and neck only stopping when Dean stirred under his ministrations lest he wake him up now that he had settled down. Ass o'clock in the morning was not the time for a deep and meaningful conversation, not of this sort and especially not with Dean. He slid the knife back in place and stood. "Damn kids," he mumbled as he looked down on the slumbering boy. "This is why I never wanted any. Get under your damn skin." He ruffled a hand through his sleeping charge's hair and then he slipped off back to his own room to toss and turn for the rest of the night.

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><p>Dean was sitting where he had been the day before except instead of working on his stereo he was cleaning Bobby's shotgun, a half drunk glass of water, a coffee cup and an open packet of Tylenol at his side. He didn't look up at Bobby's approach just continued to work on the stock of the gun, the cloth in his hand working methodically over the wood.<p>

Cursing himself Bobby sat down opposite him and clasped his hands on the table.

"Left this behind in my room last night."

"Getting old. Forgetful."

Dean dropped the cloth to the table and rested the gun down on top of it. He brought his head up, wiping at the beads of sweat on his forehead as he locked eyes with his older friend. "So," he asked taking a deep breath, "…..what did I say?"

Bobby shrugged, now that he had the opening he found he didn't want to take it. He pushed his cap back on his head, scratched at his forehead and then tugged it back down. "Nothing much, you were muttering, couldn't make it out."

Dean's lip twitched. "You know for a conman, you're the world's worst liar."

"Yeah well, you know my tells." Bobby tapped his cap and then reached for the coffee pot on the table. "This fresh?"

Nodding Dean slid a clean cup and his own towards the hunter and then nursed the cup in his hands when Bobby passed it back to him. "I know what I was dreaming about," he offered quietly.

"Want to talk about it?," Bobby started cautiously.

"Not really."

The older man respected that but there was one question that he had to ask. "How long has your daddy known?" Anger flicked into his eyes as he spoke. John's lifespan was about to depend on how the kid answered.

"He didn't"

Bobby snorted but the tension leeched out of him. He didn't think that even John could that much of a bastard but still he wasn't happy with the man. Dean read the snort wrong.

"I'm not lying, honest, he found out when we were looking for Sam."

"I know you're not kid. What did he say?"

Dean's hand tightened on the cup and he stare down into the liquid. "Not to do it again. Made me promise. Told me that it was an order."

And with those words John got to breathe air a little longer.

They sat for a spell just drinking their coffee. "Okay this maybe a dumb question, but why?"

The younger man looked at him with a 'you had to ask' look. "We needed the money."

"What was wrong with picking up the phone? I'd have wired you anything you needed, you know that," Bobby replied but he wasn't chastising or judging Dean's poor judgement, he just stating the fact.

Dean shrugged.

"Well?," the older hunter asked a tad more anger in his voice than he meant. "No wait. You're a Winchester right? Winchesters take care of their own. I've heard the damn speech."

"You're mad at me," Dean said quietly.

Bobby shook his head. "At you? No, I ain't. At myself? A little. For you? That'd be a yeah and as for your daddy? Oh hell yeah!"

Dean's head came up at that. "It was my decision, it wasn't dad's fault, it's not like he asked me to….."

"He damn well didn't need to!" Bobby banged his fist on the table and then raised it to hover in the air unsure what he wanted to do with it. He took a deep breath and dropped it back down on the wood. "He leaves you kids on your own for weeks at a time and just expects you to cope with everything Dean. Your seventeen, where did he think you were getting the money? Did he ask? Did he even care?" Realising that Dean had flinched at his increasing anger, some of which was directed now at himself for not asking either, Bobby reached out and placed a hand on the kid's own. "Anything could happen to you boys and that's without you taking damn, stupid risks."

"I normally hustle pool….dad got me an ID and it works most of the time…..," Dean started.

"Yeah 'cos that so less risky," the older man finished nodding in the direction of the line of stitches that trailed across Dean's palm and the pale remnants of the bruising on his face.

Bobby's phone ringing stopped the conversation in its track and it was with a look of relief that Dean reached for it and spoke. "Sammy?"

"It's tonight. He's taking me on the hunt tonight. Dad thinks he knows now who it is so we're gonna stake him out and then take him down if he makes a move." Sam's tone was flat, no hint of the excitement that Dean himself normally would feel going into a hunt like this.

"You okay?"

Fine." There was a pause. "Here's dad."

John was even more curt and to the point. "Your brother's fine. We'll call you soon as we're back. You do not come here. Clear?"

"Yes, sir."

With that the call was ended and Dean was left sitting listening to the dial tone. He dropped the phone on the table . "He's taking him with him."

"Hunt's tonight, moon'll be right," Bobby observed.

"Yeah." Dean scraped back his chair. "Guess I'll go finish up the truck."

Bobby scraped back his chair too. "Guess I'll give you a hand."

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><p>Bobby worked Dean hard, stopping only when it was clear that the kid was struggling with his 'cold' and Bobby's own body was protesting. It was six by then and they were both hungry and ready to drop where they stood. He ushered the boy into the house, telling him to go clean up while he rustled up some food. They dropped down into the couch in the living room, feet on the table and a bucket of chicken wings between them and it should have been relaxing but Bobby was tense and Dean was too quiet, slowly chewing at his food and staring blankly at the TV screen. Finally he wrapped the bones of what little he had eaten into the napkin that Bobby had given him and stood. "I'm beat, think I'm gonna call it a night."<p>

"Yeah I'm kinda tired myself." Bobby started to stand cursing at the stiffness in his bones.

"Need a hand there old man?," Dean asked, the first smile Bobby had seen on his face all night registering briefly before fading.

"You'll be old one day too mind," he groused back, taking the offered hand and easing himself upright.

Dean didn't say anything to that, just shot him a 'yeah right' look and Bobby felt the worry, that maybe the kid wouldn't, fill him. _Will if it's up to me,_ he thought but didn't say anything just cuffed Dean round the head for his earlier cheek and then watched as he headed for the stairs and disappeared up them. "You're gonna see old kid, unless that family of yours drive you, and most likely me too, into an early grave," he muttered quietly and then went to lock up.

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><p>Dean woke him again a little after eleven. The kid was clattering about in the kitchen when he went down and Bobby's wasn't surprised that he was fully dressed. "You going somewhere?"<p>

Sucking his bottom lip into his mouth and shooting Bobby a look that told the older hunter that Dean would like to be the boy shook his head.

"What's up?"

"Can't sleep. I got a bad feeling about this hunt Bobby and I can't shake it." Dean ran a hand over the back of his neck and turned away to hide the emotions running wild over his face.

"So, what are we gonna do about it?"

The boy turned back to him at that. "Sorry?"

"Well if I'm already awake and it doesn't look like I'm getting back to sleep any time soon…I might as well be doing something useful."

Dean stared at him. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"There's a box out in the garage, it's on the middle shelf at the back." Bobby took a set of keys off the table and threw them at Dean, the boy neatly catching them. "Put it in the trunk of my car while I get dressed."

"But dad said…."

Bobby chuckled. "Screw John, my house, my rules. We go make sure the hunt goes okay and with any luck they won't even know that we're there. If they get into trouble and we've gotta show face, well then your daddy can just take that up with me."

Dean stood there with his mouth open, the gears in his head clearly whirling. "One time offer," Bobby stated and with that kid was gone.

Chuckling the hunter headed for the stairs to get dressed before he got left behind or worse, dragged out in his pyjamas.

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><p>"Why are we taking your car?" Dean asked as he slid neatly into the passenger seat and fastened his belt.<p>

"Johnny's less likely to make us in this; damn car o'yours is too distinctive, sound and looks. We can get closer in this than we'd ever get in the Impala. 'sides my trunk's a little better loaded than yours. No offence."

"Suppose."

Dean reached for the radio but Bobby slapped his hand away. "Driver picks the music," Bobby informed him tuning it to his favourite station.

"Gonna be a long ride then," the kid groaned as country music filled the car.

"Never did get the shotgun shuts his cakehole bit, did ya?"

Dean laughed. "Wish I could shut my ears," he muttered dodging when another swipe came his way.

"Ain't nothing wrong with expanding your musical horizons."

"Think musical was the magic word there," came the reply as Dean leant on the door and rested his head on the window. "How long until we get there?," he asked glancing at his watch.

"Should pull in a little after two and we are not doing the 'are we there yet' from here to there okay?."

"Okay." Dean ran a finger down the glass chasing the beads of condensation that were there. "Could be over by then."

Bobby shook his head. "Nah, Johnny likes to wait and see what's what before he moves in, you know that. Two'll just be about perfect timing. Get some sleep, need you sharp when we get there."

"Hope so," Dean said as he pulled the collar of his leather jacket closer and shut his eyes.

tbc


	12. Chapter 12

Hello, remember me? Eight billion apologies for the huge delay in the posting of this but my laptop that I have been nursing along for the last year had to be given the last rites and put to rest leaving my computerless for three weeks! I now have a pretty little notebook that should solve a lot of my problems and get this (and the other stories I have languishing although they are still all on the old laptop and I have to find a way to rescue them *waves to brother in law*)

I have the next 2.5k of this written so hopefully I won't keep you waiting as long next time. Hope you are all enjoying the new season, I know I am. Mary x

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><p>Bobby swung the car into the space outside the room number that John had text him with and shook his head as Dean was out the car and halfway to the door before he'd even set the brake. He pushed opened his door to find that Dean was back, hand out and a frustrated look on his face. "I need your lockpicks."<p>

Fumbling in his pocket Bobby retrieved them and handed them over. "Where's yours?"

"Sam," Dean answered like that should mean something to the older man, already turning as the metal 'keys' dropped into his hand, heading back to the door. Bobby chuckled as it was opened quicker than he could have with the actual key and Dean was in. Following the younger man into the room he whistled lowly at the new décor that covered the walls.

"Forgot John likes to work this way," he muttered raising a hand to run it over the jumble of pictures and articles that littered the wall. Dean was mirroring him but unlike the older hunter it looked more like the younger man was reading Braille, getting something from the mass of information that Bobby couldn't see.

"Jefferson Park," Dean mumbled pulling himself away from the wall and turning to look for something on the desk. Finding the map he opened it and began tracing the lines on it with his fingers. Finally he stopped and tapped an area that on looking Bobby could see was just west of the motel. "They're here," Dean offered, circling a small area with his finger. "Somewhere."

"That's about four square miles, could take a while to find them…."

"…..I'll find them, besides, dad wants this thing to track them so he wouldn't be hiding his trail." Dean folded the map and turned towards the door. "Come on we're burning time we don't have here."

"Easy kid," Bobby reached out a hand and stayed Dean's exit. "You need to go into this with your head on straight or I ain't letting you go." Dean raised an eyebrow and Bobby just folded his arms across his chest. "Try me," the hunter continued. "So take a breath, check that gun of yours is packing silver and then we'll head."

Dean sighed but pulled his Colt from his waistband and ejected the clip tipping it to let Bobby see the light reflect off the silver bullets that filled it. When the older man nodded he slid it back home and headed for the door. "You coming or not," he asked when Bobby didn't immediately follow him not halting in his exit as he did.

"Winchesters," Bobby muttered as he swung the room door closed behind him and headed out after Dean to the car.

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><p>Sam was muttering a continuous litany of every curse word his brother had ever learnt him as he stumbled after his father. They were making their way through dense woods on a path that only John could have found. Trees and brambles ripped at his face and his jacket, slowing him, and he had to keep moving the heavy duffle from shoulder to shoulder because of the weight. John was marching through the narrow passage and pulling further and further ahead and Sam wanted to shout him back but he had been warned no verbal contact so he did the only thing that he could think of to make his father wait on him.<p>

John stopped dead, a hand rising to his neck as he turned and glowered at his young son. The murderous look deepened as he retraced his steps back to Sam.

Taking an involuntary step back under the psychotic look and his father bearing down on him Sam dropped the duffle and took a defensive stance.

"What," John growled at him, "..the hell was that?"

"I needed you to wait, and you said no verbal, so…," Sam looked down at the other stone he held in his hand. "I can't carry this any further," he continued kicking the dropped duffle.

"Oh for god's sake." John snatched the duffle up and threw it over his shoulder. "Damn moon'll be gone by the time we get there at this rate." He pushed Sam in front of him. "And no verbal means no muttering obscenities to yourself, some of which I'm gonna have to have a word with your brother about, mind him to watch his mouth around you."

"Sure we can't swear but we can kill things, 'cos that makes sense."

John gripped his shoulder and urged him forward. "Just shut up and move."

The path finally widened and then they stepped out in to a wide clearing with trees on two sides and a high sloping ridge of rock on the other. John dumped his own bag, the one he had taken from Sam, and the rolled up tent that he had brought at his feet and turned to his son. "Go get some firewood, do not go any further than the edge of the clearing though okay? Stay where I can see you."

"We're building a fire?"

"This thing's been hunting this part of the forest, I want this job done and finished with, so yes we're building a fire and I'm gonna bring it to us. Do you have a problem with that?"

Sam looked round the clearing and at all the various angles that the werewolf could come at them and wanted to raise the point but his father had that look in his eye that even Sam wasn't fool enough to niggle at. He let his shoulders slump to show his disapproval of John's thinking but kept his mouth shut, after all like the man said, sooner the werewolf finds them sooner Sam could go. "Firewood, stay in the clearing," he muttered back to his father as he turned and headed for where there were a few fallen trees.

John watched him walk away with a shake of his head and then pulled the tent free of its cover and started to erect it. The moon was almost fully overhead and once it was they would be getting company, ready for it or not. John aimed to be ready.

Sam poured some of the lighter fuel on the wood and then stepped back as he lit and dropped the match. The fire whooshed into life, ebbed back and then caught, its light chasing the nearby shadows back towards the trees. The younger Winchester stood watching the flames devour the wood, mind thinking briefly of another fire that had devoured his and his family's lives and then John's bark pulled him back to the present.

"Quit screwing around and get your ass over here," John called from his position near the rocky outcrop and Sam turned with a huff and a sigh and marched across the grass.

"Are we going to have a problem here Sam because I distinctly remember that I told you to light the fire and then get over here, not stand and admire the pretty flames!"

"I was just making sure it caught, sir." He added the last word on by summoning up all the resentment he felt about being here and let it colour its execution but John barely seemed to notice, his mind focused on the hunt.

"This way."

Sam followed his father at a trot feeling just like a dog as he trailed a few steps behind his lord and master. He wanted to ask what the plan was but he knew enough that whatever it was he wasn't going to get to have any input into it. It was always John's way or the highway. Sam knew which one he wished he could choose.

"Sam!"

He cursed as he realised that his father had been talking to him and he had zoned out. "Sorry, can you repeat that?," he asked making sure that he stayed outside of John's arms range as he did.

"Jesus Christ Sam, stay with the damn program here. If you aren't watching for this thing coming then it's gonna tear you apart, literally. I need you to have my back on this Sam. Do you?"

Sam nodded. "Yes sir, sorry sir."

"I said, there is a hollow in the rocks over there, when we hear it coming I want you to head over there and stay there until it's down. Is that clear?"

The hairs on Sam's neck bristled with his anger. "You brought me all the way out here to hide!," he spat at his father.

"No," John answered with a sigh and a shake of his head. "I brought you out here so that if this werewolf gets the jump on me I've got you to take it down. Your my backup Sam so that's what I need, you to have my back. So it's decision time Sam, you in or out here?"

Sam lifted his gun, checked the clip and then dropped his hand to his side. "I'm in."

"Good," John smiled at him. "Now let me show you where this opening is and then we can get something to eat."

They ate in silence, John listening to the sounds around them and Sam trying to concentrate on the here and now and not slip away into his own head space again. His father's voice caused him to lift his head.

"So, does Dean go out a lot on his own when I'm on a hunt?" John stirred the soup he had made and didn't look up at his son, his eyes scanning the woods around them instead.

Sam frowned. Dad wanted to chat on a hunt while waiting for the big bad to show? This couldn't be good. "Thought you said no verbal?," he asked, side stepping the question and taking another bite of his sandwich to try and head off answering.

John dropped the mug and looked over at his youngest son, staring at him until he caved.

"How do you mean?," Sam asked cagily.

That got him another look for avoiding the question again and then John turned his eyes back to the tree line. "When I'm hunting on my own, does Dean go out a lot at night? It's a simple question Sam."

"He doesn't leave me alone for long if that's what you're worried about." No way was Sam getting Dean into trouble and that was where he thought this line of questioning looked like it was heading.

"But he does go out sometimes?," John pushed on.

Sam shrugged. "Sometimes," he started quickly adding, "….only when we're short on cash. He goes to hustle pool or something."

John gave him another look that had the wheels in Sam's head grind into life. "Define 'or something'?"

"Why?"

John glared at him and Sam looked away, staring out across the clearing, pretending to scan for movement. His father looked away again but Sam still felt a little flame of anger light inside him on his brother's behalf. "I don't know where he goes and I don't ask all I know is that there is food on the table in the morning and I have my brother to thank for it. And I don't need to be watched twenty four you know."

John ignored the dig, checked the clip on his gun. "Is he out long?"

Sam watched as his father cut him a quick glance and then went back to scanning their surroundings. Realisation dawned on the younger man that there was a reason behind the questioning, something that had his father so on edge enough that he was ignoring his own rules on one hundred percent attention on the hunt. "What did he do?"

John wiped at his face and shot him a tried for, too casual, smile. "Didn't say he did anything, just making conversation."

"In the middle of a hunt? And it isn't a conversation it's a brain picking session," Sam shot back, senses on alert now for more than just the werewolf. He studied his father, going over his brother's actions again the night he'd ran out on him. The link between that and this chat was there but it was mocking him from a distance.

The silence stretched on as John waited for an answer and Sam tried to think of a way to avoid giving one. _Yeah, now that you mention it Dean does go out a lot at night, more than he thinks I know. _"He doesn't eat when you're away," was what he said instead, using one truth to divert John's attention from the answer he wanted. He looks down at his boots drawing a lazy circle in the soil with one.

John was sure that he didn't hear that right. "Sorry?," he questioned dumbly, the werewolf all but forgotten for a moment. He could have sworn that Sam said…

"Dean. He doesn't eat when you're not there. He tries to hide it, only eats when he knows I'm watching and he can't get away with scraping it back into the pot or a dish for me the next day. It's only when there's nothing left for either of us that he slips out at night, I used to think is was for a girl but now…..there's always food there the next day." Sam said the words like it only just hit him that his brother seemed to be able to materialise food out of nowhere. "What's he been doing to earn the money?"

John was still trying to process that Dean seems to have lied to him about how often he's been out on the streets and the fact that his eldest son seems to be starving himself when he wasn't there too. A picture of Dean sitting slowly chewing his food in the days John returned home slammed into his mind, the same son who normal inhaled food when it was put in front of him. _He's letting his stomach adjust back._

"Dad!"

The urgency in Sam's voice dragged him back out his head and he heard it too then, the soft rustle that wasn't just the wind. "Move!," he growled, lifting his gun in the direction that the werewolf was coming from even as he berated himself for his stupidity for getting distracted.

Sam bolted in the direction of the rocks and John wished he could afford the time to check that he'd got there safely but the thing was pounding across the grass at him and he only had time to aim and fire off a shot as it leapt towards him.

It connected solidly with him, there was a bolt of pain as claws sliced his skin and then something hard collided with his head and his world greyed to the sound of Sam's shout.

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><p>Short and with a cliffie, I know I am evil! x<p> 


	13. Chapter 13

Hi, wanted this to be a little bit longer but time has got away from me and I didn't want to keep you all waiting too long again. Hope you like, Mary x

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><p>Bobby laid the case on the closed lid of the trunk and popped the locks revealing the rifle that lay in bits inside. "You know what you're doing with this?," he asked Dean as the boy walked round to stand beside him.<p>

"I know," came the reply. Dean reached into the case and started to free and assemble the gun.

Bobby watched for a second or two until Dean snorted and he took the hint and moved off to get his bag. By the time he came back the rifle was in one piece and slung over Dean's shoulder. "Ready to go kid?"

Dean grinned that grin at him that always made Bobby want to reach out and strangle him. "Old man, I was born ready," he answered.

Bobby just sighed and pushed him towards the trees.

With the rifle over his left shoulder, Dean carried his colt held tight in his right hand as both he and Bobby moved into the forest and started their search for the path that John and Sam would have taken. It took them a few false starts but then Dean tensed, reminding Bobby of an old bloodhound he'd had catching the scent, and then the kid was off. Bobby supposed the jerk of Dean's head in his direction meant that he was supposed to follow. He trailed after him, content to let Dean take the lead for now, trusting the boy's judgement when it came to the path they were following and wishing he could move as quietly as Dean could even in his heavy work boots.

They followed a narrow trail that Bobby could just make out as it twisted through the trees and the older hunter felt uncomfortable at the need to keep his head down to stop from tripping or stumbling as he followed in Dean's wake. They made good time despite the awkwardness of their travel and Bobby wasn't sure but it felt almost like the undergrowth was parting to let the younger man through as Dean kept his head up and drove his way onwards.

Busy trying to keep his feet the older hunter nearly rear ended Dean when he stopped too suddenly for Bobby to react quickly enough. Raising a hand he placed it on the boy's back to stop himself from knocking them both off their feet and watched as Dean raised his own hand, turning to the older man and pointing off to their right. Frowning he tilted his head in the indicated direction and then he heard it. Something was moving slowly through the denser undergrowth over from them, and it was headed their way. Gesturing to Dean Bobby slipped quietly as he could past the younger man and signalled for him to follow him. They moved quickly but silently towards a rocky outcrop that ran beside the path they were on and then stepped off and into its shelter. The werewolf, if it was that, continued by them and they both breathed a sigh of relief as it did. Here was not the place to make a stand.

The relief was to be short lived as they heard the first shot and then a shout that even without Dean trying to get past him Bobby recognised as Sam. "Go up!," he shouted at Dean, hauling him back by the arm and pointing towards the sloping ridge of rocks above them.

"No!"

Bobby cursed, images of Dean rushing in headfirst and getting himself bit or worse filling his head, and he tightened his hold as Dean tried again to get by him. "You've got the rifle and the legs so get up there! I'll go around. Hurry!"

The hurry did it. With one final panicked look at the older hunter Dean started to scramble up to a higher vantage point and Bobby shifted back onto the path. As he hurried after the werewolf he prayed that neither his idiot friend nor Sam were hurt and that the werewolf was already down. The sight that greeted him was not the one he wished for. John was down and lying way to still to be awake, gun a few yards from him and blood dripping from the sleeve of his jacket. Tearing his eyes away from the fallen man Bobby quickly found Sam. He was standing in front of the rocks, partly sheltered by a shallow opening and staring out at the beast that circled him weighting up its options for an attack. John or Sam had erected a tent in the clearing not far from it and Bobby cursed as he realised that he would have to move to get a clear shot at the thing.

He started to slip quietly to the side and hoped that either the werewolf would debate its position long enough or Sam would keep its attention for either himself or Dean to get into position.

* * *

><p>Dean hauled himself up the rocks, not caring about the noise that he was making or the damage to his hands and knees as he crested the top of the ridge and finally got a clear look at the scene below him. If he could have made the drop to the ground without serious injury he would have but looking at the height on the side that dropped down into where his father lay bleeding and the werewolf was he reckoned that a broken leg, or neck for that matter, might hinder his involvement a little. Instead he slide the rifle down off his shoulder and dropped to lie flat on the ground, bringing the weapon round as he did and starting to ready it.<p>

A shout and movement down below caught his eye and he watched in horror as his brother stepped into view, deliberately drawing the werewolf's attention from his fallen father. The younger Winchester raised his arm and aimed his gun at the thing's chest.

"What are you doing?," Dean hissed as he settled quickly and quietly in behind the rifle and took his aim. He watched as Sam drew the thing closer to him, shouting anything that came into his head, stepping round to put himself firmly in its sights but between John and it." No, no, no." Sam had stepped unwittingly into Dean's own sights now and blocked the heart shot that he knew he would need to take the werewolf down. Dean silently asked for Sam to take a few more steps in John's direction. He resisted the urge to just take a shot and wound it hoping that Sam would be able to get the kill shot in or move to give him the one he wanted. His finger rested lightly on the trigger and held his breath and waited.

* * *

><p>Sam slowly eased himself out from his place of safety and tried to edge his way around the snarling figure that was before him. He'd never seen a live 'in the flesh' werewolf before. It was no longer human but then it wasn't fully a wolf either, a twisted figure with long nails and teeth the he was well aware of that he needed to keep from his skin. They slowly circled one another, Sam getting to where he wanted to be, between it and John. As if his thought of his father had reached the man a low moan from behind him told him that his father was starting to surface. The relief that brought was quickly dampened as he realised that the creature had heard it too. That it would sense that its position of power was slipping. It confirmed that it did by the low growl it delivered at him as it started cautiously towards him.<p>

_Take a breath, stay calm, aim for the heart,_ the little voice in his head told him sounding as a mixture of his brother's quiet instruction and his father's stern command. Taking a deep breath he settled himself and took his aim just as the werewolf made its move.

Sam took that vital step to the right and Dean blocked out everything, the groans from his fallen father, the movements of his brother, everything. There was only him, the rifle and the werewolf that he now had in his sights. He watched it move round and adjusted to line it up for the shot. He watched it ready itself, muscles tensing as it went to make its move. He had one chance to down it as it gathered itself.

He tightened his finger on the trigger and took it.

* * *

><p>His shot seemed to echo strangely in his ears as Sam pulled the trigger and then watched the creature's chest explode. It dropped instantly, teeth clacking on empty air as it did. He stood there, gun ready, but the thing didn't move it just laid there, empty eyes locked on his as life fled from it. That's when the change happened and Sam felt horror starting to fill him as it moved from being the nightmare creature that John and his brother had warned him of to a young, naked woman in her mid-twenties with a gaping hole in her chest. <em>One that you put there<em>. He turned and threw up, dropping to his knees and heaving what felt like everything he had ever ate up over the grass.

The soft call of his name made him raise his head and look towards his father. John was calling to him, had been for a while by the looks of it. The man was trying to get to his feet despite his injuries, worry and pain etched on every line of his face. Unable to get his own feet under him Sam just crawled towards his father. The strength of John's grip on his arm made him yelp as his father began a search of him. "Are you okay?," they asked almost in unison. "Did it bite you?"

Both shook their heads to confirm the negative.

"I'm sorry," John blurted out, hands stilling on Sam's chest smearing blood all over his jacket as they did. "I don't know what the hell I was thinking. Almost let it get us."

Sam stared at his father as he rambled out his apologies waiting until John stopped before he moved the bloody hands from him and started his own exam. "How bad is it?," he asked lifting his father's arm causing the older man to hiss out his pain.

"Ripped me a few more scars but at least there's no teeth marks." He took in his son's grey face and anger filled him at how close a call he'd made it by not being on the ball. Worry for one son had done the one thing he was always scared that it would. It had put the other in danger. "Get me up," he growled.

Sam for once followed the order. He got shakily to his feet and hauled his father to his, hanging back when John went to examine the body. The younger Winchester didn't want to see, werewolf or not, for now it was just a woman that he had shot that was lying dead in the grass over there. John crouched down to examine the body, the anger replaced with respect and a smile for the shot his youngest had managed under pressure. "You did good Sammy," he told his son before his vision swam and he knew they had to get out of there. He opened his knife to retrieve the bullet, silver was damned expensive, and turned to Sam. "Pack up our shit; I'll take care of this."

"What about your arm?," Sam asked, moving a little closer but still trying to keep his distance.

"It'll keep to the car. Let's get the hell outta here."

Sam watched as his father cut into the body and then slowly got to his feet. John struggled to pull the body one handed and after a moment's hesitation Sam stepped forward and grabbed an arm. Trying not to dwell on the feel of the cooling flesh or what they were about to do to it he started to help his father drag the remains of the werewolf over to the fire.

"I got this Sam, just go pack up," John said softly as they dumped the body down next to the flames.

This time Sam didn't need to be told twice. He turned his back and started to pack them up trying and failing to ignore the smell of burning flesh that filled the air around him. He jumped as John came up behind him. "Get this back to the car, I'll finish here and be right behind you."

With one grateful look at his father Sam heaved their stuff up onto his shoulders and headed out.

* * *

><p>"I want to check if they are okay," Dean complained when Bobby intercepted him on his way into the clearing.<p>

"Your brother's got this and your daddy's back on his feet. Sam needs ya, he'll call ya and then, and only then are we gonna show face here."

Dean was not for backing down that easily. "Get your damn hands off me Bobby, Sam needs me, dad needs me…."

It was like holding an eel but Bobby kept his tight grip on his young friend and shook his head. "Let Sam have this one Dean. Show you and your daddy what he's made of. Boy's tougher than you both think."

Dean went to protest further but Bobby cut him off at the pass. "Nice shot by the way."

The younger man just shrugged." Wasn't that far or that hard once Sam got his damned big head outta the way." He cast a longing glance towards the trees that skirted the edge of the clearing. "If I could just…"

"No. We did what we came here to do, so let's go." Bobby couldn't let Dean see that he wasn't the only one that wanted to go check on John and Sam, that mess back there was more than a thirteen year old should have to deal with and then he reminded himself that Dean had dealt with far worse and at a younger age. Maybe Sam would get now just what his father had and worse what his brother had let him, put Dean through to keep him safe and sound and sheltered for so long. Maybe now he hoped, Sam would see it.

They had just made the car when his phone started to ring. Frowning he didn't even look at the caller ID just handed the handset off to a smug looking Dean. "Remember, we aren't here."

Dean rolled his eyes and pressed the key. "Hello?"

"Dean." Sam's voice was shaky but Dean pretended not to hear it.

"Hey bro, so how did it go? You get the big bad?"

"Yeah. Dad got hurt."

"He did? How bad? You need me to come get you?"

Bobby slapped him across the head and walked round to open the driver's door.

"No, it's fine. We're almost done here and then I'm gonna help patch him up and we'll head home."

The shake in Sam's voice had guilt well up in Dean. "You sure? Are you okay?," he asked willing his brother to ask him for his help. "You sound funny."

There was a little pause before Sam answered. "I'm okay, it's just…..I was the one that shot it…."

"You got it? Way to go Sam!"

"Yeah, go me," Sam answered not sounding happy at all. "Dean…..it…..it changed back and it was just this woman….."

Dean winced at the upset in Sam's tone. "I know Sammy but at the end of the day, it's still a werewolf, even if it doesn't look like one when it's down. Still gonna go and kill people if you don't kill it first, nature of the beast and all that little brother."

"I know," his brother answered unconvincingly.

"You sure you don't need me to come and help, I can be there before you know it." He stepped towards the treeline and Bobby cleared his throat from the open door of the car. Dean turned his back on him but he stopped moving.

"Nah, Dad and me'll manage. Thanks. Listen, dad's coming, I better go get the first aid kit. See ya soon."

"Yeah, see ya." Dean waited until the line disconnected before closing the phone and walking back to the car, dropping his head against the roof.

"Well?"

"Don't think Sam enjoyed his first major hunt."

Bobby dropped a hand to his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Newsflash, I don't think Sam is ever gonna enjoy hunting Dean. Now get your ass in the car so that we at least have the plausible deniability of being there when they get back."

"Dad's gonna be pissed if he finds out we were here and didn't stay to help."

Bobby sighed. "He's gonna be pissed full stop so quit yakking and get in."


	14. Chapter 14

Sorry this has taken so long but as a little apology there is lots of it so I have split it into two chapters. Nearly there now I think, maybe one or two more chapters before I leave this story and go back and try to get the others finished! Thanks for your patience and your support. I haven't seen 7.10 yet and my friend tells me that this story strays into its territory so if you are kind enough to leave a review can you not mention the episode - going to watch it on Saturday when I get the time to sit down and enjoy it. Take care Mxx

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><p>Bobby raised his head from the book he was reading and stared at the middle Winchester. "You know that lino's new."<p>

Dean stopped his pacing and turned to look at Bobby and then down at the old, badly worn floor. "What?," he questioned distractedly. "Really? This floor?"

"Well it was until you started wearing a hole in it. If you don't stop soon chances are the floor'll go next and you're gonna end up in the god damn basement."

"Sorry." Dean scrubbed a hand through his hair and sat down picking up a pen that was lying on the table and starting to tap it against the wood.

Pushing his cap up Bobby leant back in his chair and sighed.

Dean dropped the pen and stood again. "Sorry, sorry, sorry. It's just; they should be back by now, shouldn't they? I mean they couldn't have been that far behind us…"

"They had to load the car, your brother probably had to stitch that arm of your daddy's and maybe your brother's had to drive so they'd stick to the back roads…" He was cut off by the rev of an engine as John's big truck eased its way into the yard. Bobby blinked and Dean had vanished. Easing himself out of the chair he followed at a more sedate pace.

Sam was standing by the passenger door and Dean was getting pushed away by John. "I'm fine, go help your brother bring the bags in," he growled at his son as he manoeuvred round him and headed towards Bobby. The hunter stepped back and let John stomp pass. "Me casa es su casa," he muttered as his friend clomped by him.

* * *

><p>John looked like shit. It was blunt but there was no better description for the man sitting hunched over the table opposite him nursing both his arm and a whisky. Sam was sitting quietly, too quietly, at his side with Dean hovering over them like some guardian angel.<p>

"Dean, go and clean the guns, take your brother with you," John barked in a voice that should have brokered no defiance and yet Dean didn't move straight away. He cast a glance in Bobby's direction and then down at his dad. "It was my idea," he started, because he knew why John wanted them out of the room. "If you're mad at anyone it should be me."

"Dean!," John growled without looking at him. "Now!"

Bobby nodded at Dean and tried hard not to smile as John's anger flared when his son obeyed the silent command after only one look. Dean grabbed his brother by the shoulder and hauled him to his feet. "Come on, you can tell me about the hunt."

Sam took a look at each of the three other men in the room and then shook his brother off and headed for the stairs, only giving Bobby a backward glance when he reached them.

"What was that all about?," he asked when they were finally upstairs. He flopped down on one bed and watched as his brother unloaded the weapon's duffle onto the other. Dean didn't answer, he just spread the old blanket they used for cleaning and laid the guns out on it.

"Dean?," Sam prompted.

Picking up the Taurus he had watched Sam shoot the werewolf with, Dean slid the clip out and dropped it on the bed next to his leg. "Nothing. So, you bagged your first big bad? You okay?"

Sitting up to face his brother Sam shrugged. "Dunno. Suppose so. Wasn't what I thought it would be like, what with dad almost blowing the hunt. I mean what was with that?"

Dean stopped what he was doing, gun dropping to rest on his thigh. "Dad what?"

"He was talking; almost let it get right on top of us before we heard it."

Wide eyes stared back at Sam's own. "Talking? Dad? On a hunt? Our dad? What was he talking about?"

Sam bit his lip and shrugged. "You."

"Me? Dad almost blew the hunt because of me?" Dean's face had drained of colour and Sam thought for a second that his brother was going to be sick before he seemed to regain himself. "What was he saying?"

"He wasn't saying anything, he was asking." Sam pulled at a loose thread on the old candlewick bedspread.

"Asking what exactly?"

"About you going out at night, but I didn't tell him you go out a lot." His brother said earnestly. "I didn't want you getting into trouble for leaving me. He was acting strange though and I thought, I thought that if I told him that you didn't eat then it would stop him asking about you going out, because he isn't going to be as mad at you for that as he would have been for you leaving me in the apartments on my own….and I know I said I'd tell him that you did, but I didn't. I swear."

Dean shut his eyes and slowly tried to work through the information that his brother had just spewed up all over him. _Dad and Sam almost got hurt on a hunt because of me. _Dad didn't believe him about the amount of times that he'd gone out. _He knows that the money doesn't last Dean, he's thoughtless not stupid. _And now Sam had to go and add fuel to the fire. "Why the hell would you tell him that I don't eat when he's not there? I eat!"

Sam screwed up his face. "Barely."

Running a hand through his hair Dean sighed. "Couldn't you just have told him that I don't go out at night a lot?"

Sam thought about that for a moment. "No, because that would have been a lie and he would have known." He looked up at his brother, watched Dean shrug his agreement. "And you've just got gun oil all over your hair."

Dean looked down at his fingers and cursed. "Perfect," He muttered. "Just perfect." He slid the clip out of one of the other guns and tossed it at his brother. "Make yourself useful and tell me about the werewolf."

Sam caught the gun and the cloth that followed it. "Not much to tell."

Dean frowned. "You bagged a werewolf that was coming at you first time and you're not even hyped about it? Are you sure we're related?"

"You're Chuck Norris, not me." A thoughtful look crossed Sam's face. "You were there!"

Dean almost managed to hide his startled expression. "What? No!" _You and your big mouth Winchester._

"How did you know I bagged it first time then?" Sam put down his gun and crossed his arms.

"Lucky guess. If you had taken time for two shots, it would have eaten you."

Sam glared at him. "That's why dad's pissed at Bobby!"

"Dad's pissed because he fucked up the hunt," _because of me. _"Bobby's just the nearest target."

"Nope and language." Sam closed his eyes and sat so quietly that for a moment Dean wondered if he had fallen asleep sitting up. "It wasn't an echo! That was you, wasn't it? You shot it too!"

Realising that denial was useless Dean raised his hands in surrender. "You got me."

"So it might not have been me that killed that woman?," Sam asked, a little more brightness to his voice than had been there before.

"Werewolf," Dean corrected. "And no, I shot her…it too, so it could have been either one of us."

"We can tell," Sam offered and his brother raised an eyebrow at him. "Dad's got the bullet…or bullets."

"Does it matter?"

Sam huffed out a breath of air. "No, but it would be interesting to see. Where were you anyway?"

"Made the shot from up on the rocks, Bobby gave me a rifle," Dean said sounding more than a little prideful, pride that was quickly dampened by his brother.

"Well then it was obviously me that shot it, you couldn't have bagged it from that distance."

"Hey! I hit it, once you got your big head out the road! Not like you Mr Sharpshooter, I can't hit a can from four feet!"

"You knocked my arm!"

"Still missed it!"

"I hit the woman…werewolf! Let's go get the bullets and see who the better shot is!"

"No, and you were nearer. If you couldn't hit it from that range I've wasted a shit load of time showing you how to shoot."

"It was my kill! Dad can prove it!"

Dean wanted to laugh at his brother's sudden change of heart about killing things, sibling rivalry overriding his morality. "Fine, we'll see, but just wait until he calms down."

"Yeah, because I'm going to go down there and get added to the fight." There was a crash downstairs as he finished talking. "Definitely staying here."

Dean stood. "Maybe I should go…"

Sam shot out a hand. "Don't. He was in a real funny mood the whole way back here. Bobby can handle dad."

"I know but it's my fault he's mad at him in the first place. I wanted to come get you guys."

"And Bobby took you. He knew what he was getting himself into." Sam picked up his gun again and started taking it apart. "Dean?"

His brother froze at that tone.

"Why is dad so bothered now about you going out at night when he wasn't before? Did something happen? Did you get hurt or did you do something that made him so….so…weird?" Sam couldn't find a better word than that.

"No," Dean answered way too easily for Sam's liking. "Why? Did he say something to you?"

"No, did he have something to say?"

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"That! Turn my question back round on me without answering it. Nothing happened okay? I don't know why dad's so weirded suddenly with me staying out late."

"Weirded? Is that even a word?"

Dean snorted and went back to work on the gun, effectively ending the conversation.

"Dean?"

He raised his eyes with a sigh. "What?"

"You know you can tell me anything, don't you? I won't judge you like dad does if you've done something you shouldn't have." The 'I love you, you're my big brother' went unsaid but Sam knew that his brother would hear it anyway.

Dean stared down at the gun in his hands. Cursing John silently for saying anything to Sam he just shrugged and glanced up at his brother. "Nothing to tell Sam, dad just doesn't like me going out and leaving you, that's all."

Sam stared at him for a minute or two and then got back to work on his gun too. _Yeah right,_ he thought.

* * *

><p>"I told you he was to stay here, that he wasn't to be allowed to follow us and what did you do? You bloody drive him to us!" John banged his fist down on the table making everything on it jump.<p>

"Well he was worried and truth be told I was worried too and it looks like we had a right to be! You're lucky that's claw and not teeth marks on your damn arm and that your youngest isn't werewolf kibble!"

"I had it under control!"

"Was that before or after you were eatin' dirt?"

"Sam coped!"

"Just as well because you weren't gonna be much use with your gun lying ten feet away from ya! What if he had froze? What if it had got him? Or don't you remember stitching Dean after he coped with his first big hunt? I can call him in and get him to show you the scars on his back if you don't!"

"Stop interfering with my family!"

"Well, stop involving me then! When Dean's in my care it's up to me and him what he can or can't do, you give up the right to dictate to either of us the minute that door slams behind you."

John scoffed. "You wanted a son so badly Bobby you should have had one of your own, instead of trying to muscle in on mine."

"You god damn son of a bitch. I don't need to muscle in, you damn well throw him at me! Way you treat that boy; you don't deserve to have him! What kind of father are you that would leave his two sons in some dank fucking motel room or shitty apartment and not even make sure that they had enough money to eat? For Dean to be so desperate that he'd do….that…." Bobby wiped a hand down his face and threw back the drink he'd poured himself. "I always knew things were bad for them when you weren't around but this….I ought to break your face."

John raised his eyes to Bobby's. "He told you?" He let out a dry, wry chuckle. "Why I'm I even surprised by that."

"He talks to me because I listen John, and I don't judge every little thing he does and find him wanting! And for your information he didn't tell me, boy's been running a fever off and on the last couple of days, always did give him a slack tongue."

"I didn't ask him to do that Bobby; I'd never ask him to!" John stood, limped to the sink and leant on it. "I know that I ain't father of the year but even you can't think I want him out on the streets."

Bobby let out a long suffering sigh. "You ain't even father of the week John. If keeping your boys safe is the most important thing to you why the hell do you leave them? Why John? Because you have to chase down the thing that wrecked your life? Newsflash, Dean getting hurt out whoring himself out is gonna screw up your life more than some smoke and mirrors demon has!"

"Don't use that word!"

"Why? It's what he did. What you left him with no choice but to do! Even If he hadn't done that, he's only seventeen John and you leave him to sneak his way into bars to hustle pool that I wouldn't even step foot in and from guys I wouldn't even approach in broad daylight!" Bobby took a breath, tried to take the edge off his anger before words turned to war. "Mary's dead John but Dean and Sam aren't so maybe you should spend more time protecting the living than avenging the dead."

"What if it had been your wife? Think you wouldn't have done the exact same thing I did? I can't protect my boys from this thing Bobby, only thing I can do is kill it and then take it from there."

"And what if you lose your boys to something or worse, someone, else before you seal the deal John? What would have been the damn point? What would Mary think of that? Do you think that she would be pleased that you put revenge for her death before her sons' welfare?"

John swept all the dishes off the counter and into the sink with a clatter. "I called you didn't I? The minute I found out! I asked for your help."

"That's you shutting the stable door after the horse has darn well bolted John and you know it! 'sides, you shouldn't have to call me John because your damn kids shouldn't be left on their own to fend for themselves in the first place. I told you that you could leave them here but oh no, the great John Winchester is such a selfish bastard that he'd rather drag his kids all over the god, green earth than let them settle some place they'd be safe!"

"Fuck you Bobby! They're safe with me! I do what I can! And don't think that I don't know it ain't good enough or that my kids don't always come first…"

"You kids are the end of a god damned long list John. How many times are we gonna have this argument before it's over one of their cold, dead bodies? Kid's gonna get himself killed John taking risks to look after his brother when it should be your job to look after them both!"

John stomped over, anger etched in every line of his face. He grabbed Bobby and hauled him to his feet, reeling him in hard against him. "Don't you think I know that? Don't you think that thought haunts me every day?" He pushed Bobby back down into the seat and then folded into the one opposite, fight leaving him as he did. "I need them with me Bobby. Without them I can't…..I just can't." He dropped his head into his hands. "He's so damn like her, and they're all I got left…my only reason for not just biting a bullet and being done with it."

"Just a little more care and attention John, it's all I'm saying." Bobby pulled his chair closer. "Gimme a look at that arm."

John shrugged his jacket off and dropped it on the floor at his feet. "Sam cleaned it and patched it."

"Not bad, wound's leaking a little though." He dragged the first aid kit from its place on the counter and opened it. "Let's get you patched up and then we can all eat, damn boy of yours would hardly eat the whole time you were away….what?"

John looked down at the table stroking it with the fingers of his good hand. "Yeah, about that, I found out something else that you aren't gonna like."

Bobby slid the whisky over and held up a hand to stop John talking. "Don't tell me until after I've patched you up and I've had a few or you might regret it, although I can guess what you're gonna say."

"You can?"

"Eldest ain't exactly carrying any extra weight John, not like his brother. Doesn't take a genius to figure out what's been going on there."

"Is that you're polite way of calling me dumb?" John reached for the whisky and took a slug, hissing as Bobby poured antiseptic over his wounds.

"I might be the one wearing a cap John…,"

"…but I'm the one it fits, I hear you Bobby, I hear you."

"Yeah John, I know you do, but are you listening?"


	15. Chapter 15

As promised, the second chapter today...enjoy

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><p>"Dad?," Sam asked as his father handed him his plate and they settled down to dinner.<p>

John raised weary eyes to his son. "What?"

"Did you get the bullet from the werewolf?"

Dean sighed and dug into his potato.

"Yeah." John looked at both his sons. "Why?" He shoved some meat into his mouth and chewed. "Something you want to know?"

"Well you know that Dean was there now…"

John swallowed and frowned at his older son. "Against orders."

Dean dropped his eyes to his plate and found something interesting in the patterns on Bobby's old china to look at.

"….we were wondering who killed it," Sam continued on ignoring his brother's discomfort and his father's annoyance.

"Thought you'd never ask," John answered, annoyance slipping and a little smirk settling on his face.

They sat there for a couple of minutes until Sam huffed his hair out of his eyes. "Well?"

John pulled the two bullets from his pocket and Sam snatched them up to examine them. He turned them over and then looked to his father for help. "I can't tell."

"Dean?"

Raising his head at his father speaking his name Dean held out his hand for the bullets. Sam dropped them into his palm and stared at him. His big brother turned them over and then dropped them back down in front of his father. "Mine hit his," he informed the room.

"So, what does that mean?," Sam all but whined.

"It means we can't tell without knowing how far in the bullets were," Dean offered, taking a drink and then toying with the meal on his plate.

"Eat that," John growled at him ignoring his son's eye roll and then turned to Sam. "Yours was further through so the kill's yours."

"Oh."

Both Dean and John looked over at him. "That a good 'oh' or an 'oh dear oh'?," Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. "Bit of both, still," he turned a cheeky grin on his brother, "means we didn't really need you there after all."

Dean hid the smile that wanted out with a scowl. "Bitch. Must have been a lucky shot."

Sam didn't say anything, just smirked.

"Right, finish your dinner boys and then I want to talk to you both."

All signs of mirth slid from Dean's face. "What about?"

"I've got a hunt and we're going to talk about what you are both to do if I'm late back."

"Can't we stay here?," Sam asked.

"No," came back the reply as John pushed his chair back and went to drop his plate in the sink.

Sam stood and headed out the room.

"Where are you going?"

"Nowhere," his son replied heading for the bathroom.

John waited until he heard the door slam and then walked back and gripped Dean's shoulder. "Nice shot by the way, don't know if I could have made it."

Dean seemed to glow a little under the praise until his father finished. "….course I wouldn't have been there in the first place and neither should you have been. Ten minutes and then we'll talk about next week."

Watching John walk away Dean allowed himself the pleasure of a little smile and he snatched the bullet off the table, pocketed it and then went to wash up.

* * *

><p>They were all sitting round the table in Bobby's kitchen and Sam had about a million questions he wanted to ask. He listened now as his father spoke to Dean and the questions rolled round his head, fuelled by his dad's strange behaviour and his brother's more silent than usual acceptance of John's instructions. A part of Sam though knew that he shouldn't have to ask what was going on because wasn't he was the one that was always there with his brother when dad wasn't? Wasn't he the one that should already have all the answers?<p>

John pulled a box over in front of him and fished out the two new cell phones that made the one that they already had look like a brick. He slid one across the table at Dean and pocketed the other one. "All the numbers you'll need are programmed in, call them in the order they're on it."

"Why don't I get one?," Sam butted in.

"Because you will always be with either your brother or me so you don't need one."

Dean flipped the phone open and scrolled through the directory. "Ellen?" He raised an eyebrow at his father. "Something you want to tell us?"

"Her husband was a friend of Bobby's and mine, she's got a safe house, a bar that you can go to if need be but she is a last resort, you understand?"

Dean nodded and closed the phone, slipping it into the pocket of his jeans and then looking at the other items that John had on the table.

"This credit card is for gassing the car only, I don't want you using it because Sam needs something, are we clear on that?"

"But….," Dean started. The look in John's eye stopped him. "Crystal, sir."

"So, let's go over this again shall we. I'm late back from the hunt; the money's ran out, what do you do?"

"I use the reserve card," Dean picked up another credit card and waved it at his father.

John waited.

"Only twice or once if it's for rent, and then it gets binned and I call Bobby."

"And if you can't get Bobby?"

"Then I work down the list until I find someone that picks up."

"And if no one picks up?"

Dean sighed. "I gas the car and head here."

"Why?" Sam couldn't sit quiet any longer.

"Why what?," John asked turning to his younger son.

"Why all this? Why now?" Sam shot a look at his brother who had a face that promised him great harm if he pushed dad on the matter but Sam didn't care. He was being left out of the loop, again.

"It's time, that's why."

"So, if we run out of money for food or rent then we're to pack up and head here?"

John nodded. "Good to know that you were actually listening Sam and not just staring into space like you normally do when I talk to you guys."

Sam bristled. "So we would be as well just staying here then," he grumbled.

"Why?" John crossed his arms and leant back and Dean had to resist either looking at Bobby or rolling his eyes. _Here we go,_ he thought.

"Why? Well you're always late back from the hunt, more so lately and the money is always gone and Dean has to go out and get more, so we are as well staying here."

"It doesn't always run out," Dean hissed at his brother, aiming a kick at him under the table and missing as Sam pre-empted the strike. "Drama queen!"

"Yeah, it does." Sam crossed him arms his body language mimicking that of his father's exactly.

John turned to his son with a frown. "Dean?"

"It doesn't. He's just pissed because I can't give him money to go out with his friends, doesn't mean that we don't have any." He stood. "Are we done here?"

"Sit your ass down! I not finished here."

Dean dropped into the chair and glared at his brother.

"So when the money's low, what do you do to try and make it last?"

"He doesn't eat, I told you that!" Sam scowled at his father and Dean scowled at him.

"I eat!"

"No you don't, not the way you do when dad's there!"

"Well if ate like that all the time I'd end up like you! Short and fat!" Dean cringed as he watched his angry words hit home with his brother and made a little note to apologise later.

"I'm almost as tall as you and I am not fat!"

"Boys, enough!" John motioned to Dean. "Stand up."

"You just told me to sit the hell down," he muttered but stood anyway, groaning when his father reeled him towards him with the waistband of his jeans. Pushing his shirt aside John fingered the new holes that Dean had had to make in his belt to keep his jeans up. "Really? Why'd you have to do this then?"

"So I skip a few meals, what's the big deal, I catch up when you're home."

"He's hardly ever home Dean, that's the big deal." Bobby finally joined in the conversation ignoring the look John threw him.

"Christ, what is this? Let's pick fault with Dean day?" Dean pulled himself free of his father's grip and sorted his shirt. "I manage when you're not there okay and I eat, maybe not enough but I know enough not to let myself starve to death if that's what you're worried about. I'm not stupid!"

"No, but you are kinda reckless kid when it comes to looking out for number one."

Dean shot Bobby a hurt look of betrayal and then looked back at his father. "I promised you that I wouldn't do anything you didn't want me doing, so can we drop this now? Can I go?"

John gestured with his head and Dean headed for the door. "You coming?," he called back to Sam as he reached and opened it.

"Your brother will be out in a minute, I want to talk to him."

Dean froze in the doorway, worried eyes settling on his father. "Dad?," he questioned.

"I've just got something I want to ask him, that's all. Why don't you start on that oil change we were gonna do on the car and I'll come out and give you a hand in a second."

Having been dismissed Dean could do nothing but shrug and leave.

John waited until he was sure that Dean was clear of the door and then he handed the old cell phone to his younger son. "This is not a toy. I want you to have this in case of an emergency only. Something happens you're not happy with and I want you to call me or Bobby straight away but I don't want calls with you bitching to me about your brother being mean to you, or not giving you money or letting you go out with friends. Understand?"

"Yes sir," Sam answered turning the phone over in his hand with a look of glee on his face that worried his father.

John cleared his throat and dropped his eyes to the table. "And I don't want you to tell Dean you have it."

Sam raised his head with questioning eyes.

"It's only for emergencies, which, if you're having you use it means Dean can't, so he doesn't need to know you've got it."

Sam stared at his father. "And?" Sam knew that there was an and, another reason for him having this.

"I want you to call me if the money runs out and your brother goes out instead of calling me or Bobby." John didn't look him in the face and Sam dropped the phone on the table like it had burned him.

"No."

John's head rose. "Pardon?"

"I'm not gonna rat Dean out. If you don't want him to go out, don't leave us behind and with not enough cash to last. Or, better still, leave us here."

"No."

"Then I'm not calling you behind his back."

John counted silently to ten in his head. "Sam, I need you to step up here and keep an eye on your brother for me, the way he does for you. Is that too much to ask?"

"If I do is it just so that Dean gets into trouble, because if it is then I'm not doing it!"

Pinching the skin on his nose John locked eyes with his youngest. "It's so that Dean doesn't get himself into trouble, so that he doesn't go out and get hurt."

Sam picked the phone up and turned it over in his hand. "If I call will you pick up?"

"If I can," John replied with a sigh.

"I don't want to do this behind Dean's back." Sam slid the phone back to John.

"Jesus Ch…..Sam please, just for once can you do something I ask you to. Please?"

Sam sat back and folded his arms. "On two conditions."

John sighed. "What?"

"You stop leaving me out of the loop and I want to know what Dean did to make you go to all this bother."

"If I leave you out of the loop then it's for a reason Sam and Dean didn't do anything, I just want to make sure that you both stay safe when I'm not there, not just you."

"Then why don't you just order him not to go out, it's not like he'd disobey an order, I mean I'm not even allowed to walk home from school on my own because you told him I couldn't."

John saw his in. "If I ask Dean not to pick you up from school will you do this for me? I mean Dean isn't supposed to be going out and like you said, he doesn't disobey orders….when Bobby isn't around." The other hunter shot a sickly, sweet smile at him. "So," John continued ignoring Bobby, "you'll probably never need to use this." He slid the phone back to Sam.

"Fine, but I'm telling him that I've got it for emergencies."

"Fine. I'll tell him myself."

Sam pocketed the phone and then looked up at his dad. "So, when are we leaving?"

"Tomorrow, got wind of a hunt back near Lupton so you can go back to the schools you were at, I'll call, tell them there was a death in the family. That should put a smile on your face, getting to go to the same school for another two or three weeks."

_Great, _Sam thought, _another two or three weeks of Evan Burke….._ "Great," he said trying to muster some enthusiasm into his voice.

John shook his head wondering why nothing he did ever pleased his youngest son. "Get the bags sorted and we can get out of here early tomorrow. I'll help Dean with the car and let him know where we're going."

Sam pushed himself away from the table and stood knowing that his brother wouldn't be any happier with the news that they were going back to Lupton than he was and even more sure that something had gone down there that he wasn't ever going to be told about.

* * *

><p>Dean kept his eyes on the road trying hard to ignore his brother's stare and concentrate on keeping up with their dad. He hoped that they weren't going back to the crappy apartments they had been in with the leering super. His skin crawled and he wasn't sure if it was that thought or the fact that Sam was just sitting there, staring at him. His brother had his back against the door, his legs sprawled awkwardly half on and half off the seat and eyes locked on Dean's profile.<p>

The smooth leather of the Impala's wheel felt slick under his hands and the palm of his injured one itched,_ dear god don't let that be an infection, _and sweat beaded his brow. He cranked the window down and finally had to turn his head to his brother. "What?," he snapped. "Have I grown a second head that I don't know about?"

"Second face," Sam bit back. "So are you going to tell me what you did?"

"Who said I did anything?," Dean countered reaching for the radio only to get his hand slapped away.

"No way," Sam growled. "You're gonna talk and I'm gonna sit here and bug the shit outta you until you cave."

"Gonna be a long drive then."

"Do you want me to guess because I have some lovely ideas running through my head that you probably don't want me to air?" Sam had too but he refused to believe that his brother would do any of the things he was thinking which was why he made the comment. He knew that it would make Dean angry and an angry Dean tended to blurt things out he normal wouldn't, even under torture.

As expected Dean turned, anger flashing briefly in his eyes. "Maybe he's just pissed because I let you manage to bail on me and the curfew's just a way of getting back at me?"

"He's worried about something you did, not mad at something you couldn't stop."

"Don't be too sure of that," his brother shot back reaching for his sunglasses and turning his attention back to the road.

Sam looked away, sensing defeat for now as Dean blocked him out. Instead he stared out the windshield too at the black truck eating up the miles in front of them.

"What do you think he would do if we didn't follow him, just turned off somewhere? Do you think that he'd even notice?"

Dean turned his head to him. "Hunt me down and skin me alive? And he'd notice, believe me."

Sam snorted. "We could you know," he started a little too earnestly for Dean's piece of mind. "You're old enough. We could just bail on him, take the car and just go." He banged his head on the window and sighed. "You don't know what it was like, the sense of freedom that I had in Flagstaff. How good it was not to have his overbearing shadow hanging over my head the whole time."

"We can't just bail," Dean spat out between gritted teeth.

"Why not? He does it to us!"

"Yeah but he does it for a reason not because he's an ungrateful, whiney, selfish, pain in my ass, little brat who doesn't like to follow orders…..and he always comes back."

"Sorry but I'm never going to be you, yes sir, no sir, three bags bloody full."

"Language!"

"Screw you! He wouldn't care if I was gone, hardly notices me past your brown nose! And one of these days he just might not come back! And what are you gonna do then? Carry on hunting forever until you're dead too? Shit!" Sam slid off the seat, getting jammed between the seat and the dash as Dean tromped on the brakes and slid the car into the side of the road. "What the…..Dean!"

"Don't you say that! Don't you even think it! Do you hear me?" Dean was in his face, glasses gone and his eyes the angriest that Sam had ever seen.

"I didn't mean I didn't want him to come back, but it could happen, you can't deny that!," Sam huffed, righting himself awkwardly.

"It isn't going to. Understand?" Dean's phone rang at that and he shot his brother a look as he answered it. "Sorry sir," he spoke into the handset. "The lightweight had to pee." He leant over and opened the passenger door, shoving Sam out it as soon as it swung back. "No sir, sorry sir…yeah I know…..we'll catch you up….no sir." Dean closed the phone and climbed out rounding the car to where his brother sat into the dirt.

"Yes sir, no sir," he mimicked. "One of these days, when I'm old enough I'm gonna do it. I'm just going to leave and he won't be able to stop me!"

Dean glared at him. "Don't let me stop you either!"

"Don't worry, I won't!," he screamed at his elder brother as Dean leant down and dragged him to his feet.

"And just where the hell would you go?," Dean asked, throwing him back against the car.

"Don't know. College maybe…..,"

"What with, fresh air?"

"I could! I could get a scholarship or something, I'm smart enough!"

"In the wrong ways," Dean snorted.

Sam flipped him the finger. "Screw you! I'd just be happy to go anywhere that he's not and I won't have to be made to feel like a freak."

Dean sighed and wiped at his face. "You are a freak. We're all freaks. Now get in the fucking car before I get torn a new one for stopping."

"Didn't ask you to you jerk." Sam got in and slammed the door causing Dean to glower harder at him. Suddenly he didn't care what his brother had done to irk his father. He dug in his bag as Dean got in and started the car. The radio got cranked to 'bleed' and Sam tried to block out that and the sound of the engine's complaint as Dean gunned it and tore out after John. He cast a nervous look as the car picked up speed knowing that he had probably pushed all the buttons his brother had but not really caring except for the fact that he might die in the next couple of minutes the way Dean was driving.

He'd asked Dean something he clearly didn't want to answer. Button One.

He'd committed car abuse by slamming the door. Button Two

And worst of all, he'd critised he who must not be critised. Buttons Three to infinity.

Sam cringed as the car was opened up too hard and too fast, lurching forward round a truck. He held a death grip on his book but didn't say anything, letting his brother burn off steam with the miles under the Impala's wheels.

It seemed like seconds and there was dad's truck in front of them and Dean's phone started to ring. His brother fished it out of his pocket and then sat silently as John spoke. "Yes sir," he finally said voice clipped and hard. "Sorry sir." The car slowed and Sam quietly breathed a sigh of relief. Dean tossed the phone onto the seat between then and it was obvious that dad had disapproved of how quickly they had caught him up. So did Sam but he wisely stayed silent and just buried his head in his book.

* * *

><p>It wasn't the apartments that they had stayed in before, if anything these ones were worse. The window of the one they were shown to had cracks across it and the door needed a shoulder to get it open. Sam sighed and pulled his bag from the car hoping that the inside might be better. Dean pushed by him and headed in and his barely audible groan was enough for Sam to know his hopes were going to be dashed.<p>

It was two rooms, of questionable cleanliness, and a small toilet with a shower cubicle and there were only two beds. That meant either dad wasn't staying or he was on the couch again.

The super took his money and left and John turned to Dean. "I'm going to go get us some food. See what you can do with the place and get it warded, you know the drill."

When the door was closed Dean dropped the two bags he was carrying and opened one, throwing the salt canister in Sam's direction. "Make yourself useful and don't forget the bathroom window." Sighing Sam trudged to the window and started the salt lines.

* * *

><p>John dropped take out on the table and the rest of his food shopping on the counter of the little kitchen area and did a quick look round. The salt lines and wards were in place and he nodded his head in approval. Then something else hits him, the beds were stripped and the foul odour that was clinging in the air now has a pine scent to it. "Where are the bedclothes and did you clean?," he asked his eldest who was sitting on the chair at the table with his head stuck in a book. "And where's your brother?"<p>

Dean closed the book and dragged the take out towards him. "When even the cockroaches are forming an orderly line for the door, then yeah, I clean and I didn't so much as strip the beds as free the corners and let the sheets walk to the laundry room on their own."

John raised an eyebrow at the tone and the sarcasm but lets it slide. "And Sam?"

"He's making nice with the washing machine, took his book."

"You check on him?" John slumped into the seat opposite his son and opened a carton of food for himself.

"Yeah," Dean shot back with offence in his tone.

John held up his hands. "Only asking."

Sam chose that moment to come slamming in the door, sheets trailing and tangling in his legs as he did. "Stupid dryer's broken." He threw the sheets down on the bed. "How are we supposed to get these dry now?"

Dean pointed with his fork at the radiator behind him. "Heating works, we can put them over a chair or something, if they don't dry then there's blankets in the Impala we can use."

Sam huffed. "Thought the idea was to get to sleep in clean beds not grubby old blankets. He flopped down next to his dad and snagged some food.

"At least it'll be our bugs and bodily fluids on them," Dean offered back.

"Dude, gross." Sam screwed up his face in disgust. "I don't want to sleep in any bodily fluids, stained sheets or blankets, thanks all the same, especially not yours, don't know where you've been or what you've got." He had dug into his carton but the awkward silence made him look up. "What?

John sighed wondering if his son had just inadvertently brought up something else he needed to worry about. "Eat your dinner Sam. I'll go and buy new sheets if it'll shut you and make you happy."

"Nothing shuts him up and he's never happy," Dean deadpanned, flicking food in his brother's direction.

"Shut up."

"Make me squirt."

"Boys."

The meal lapsed into silence and then John sat at the table supposedly researching but really just watching his boys get things organised. Sam went to wash up the glasses they had used and put away the groceries and Dean set about hanging the sheets over two of the rickety chairs. Sam finished his task and moved to help his brother both of them easily manoeuvring round the other without speaking. When the task was done Dean went outside to get the blankets and Sam grabbed two cans of coke and a bag of chips from the kitchenette and headed for the television. Finding an old horror movie he nodded his head in approval just as Dean appeared back and they both headed for the bed. Dean spread a blanket over the stained mattress and then they both shed their shoes and climbed up. The whole thing had an air of a well organised routine and John felt a little pang that there wasn't a place for him in it.

Two hours later and Sam was out for the count and John was packed. Dean was still on the bed, his brother's face resting on his hip.

"He's drooling on your jeans," John chuckled lifting a pillow and motioning Dean to lift his brother's head. They sorted Sam and John pulled the blanket round him. "You boys gonna be okay? I've squared everything with the school, poor dear dead Aunt Matilda May."

"Your fake names are getting worse."

"Running out of ordinary ones." John shouldered his bag. "I'll be back in two weeks, the money should last that long."

"Okay."

John headed for the door when Dean's voice stopped him.

"Dad, be careful okay, don't worry about us. I got this." Dean sounded young and a little scared as he said the words and John smiled.

"I will be. Bye Dean."

"See you later dad."

John hadn't noticed it before but he realised at that moment that Dean never ever said goodbye.

* * *

><p>John pulled the truck into the side of the road about a mile from the motel and called Bobby. "Well it's done. I'm coming to you."<p>

"You sure that this is a good idea? Leaving them on their own and not going back when you said you would? How do you know that he'll call that he won't just…."

"He'll call Bobby."

He hung up the call and dropped the phone on the seat. "He'd better."

tbc


	16. Chapter 16

Hello everyone. I hope that you had a great Christmas if you celebrate it and even if you don't you had time to enjoy with your family and friends. I wish you all health and happiness for the new year and that 2012 is kind to you. Mary xx

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><p>Dean looked down with hate at the bill for the two new tyres that he's had to put on the Impala due to a run in with a deer at high speed that nearly ended his car and had shortened his own life by several years. Staring at it he decided that either God hated him or he'd at least done something to justify being struck off the Christmas card list.<p>

After almost two weeks of nearly going stir crazy sitting in their crummy apartment with his brother watching his every move and not even getting out to relieve a little tension (if you catch his drift) Dean had decided that he should burn some off by taking the car for a run. Sam was in school, John was due back in three days (there hadn't been a call to say otherwise) and there was still gas in the tank and credit on the card, so why not? The why not reared up on him at eighty miles an hour and cost him the said tyres, said gas and said credit all in one go. It also cost him a tow out of a ditch.

On the bright side, Bambi had lived despite Dean's urge to put a bullet in her and the tyres were the only major damage to the car he couldn't fix himself.

The other, bigger, reason though for his foul mood was the phone lying next to the bill. The phone with the message of an hour ago telling him that John was going to be late, one week maybe two and he was to use the card he had just bought the tyres on to pay one week's rent and then head to Bobby's if John wasn't back yet. Worse still was even though the other card would cover the rent it would still leave him with less than he needed to top the car off and to actually make Bobby's place. On top of that there was the little problem that they still had to eat.

Life was just grand, wasn't it?

Sighing he dropped his head to the table and wondered just how long he could stall the super and how far his five dollars he had left would stretch before it or he snapped.

The sound of the door opening had him lifting his head quickly from its resting place only to wish he hadn't as the rest of his day crumbled to ash in front of his eyes. Sam stomped in, threw his ripped bag and a dog eared book down on the chair and himself down on the bed.

"What happened?," Dean asked eyeing the tear in his brother's schoolbag as another expense he couldn't afford to have.

"Evan frigging Burke! Guy's a grade a, class one jerk!" Sam threw himself backwards and put his hands under his head.

"What did he do?," Dean asked, head calculating just how much hurt he was going to leave the guy in.

His brother gestured at the table. "Look at my bag!"

"Are you hurt?"

Sam shook his head. "No, but _look_ at my bag and he ripped my reader which Mrs Anderson told me I have to get replaced."

Dean resisted the urge to just lay his head back down on the table. "I'm picking you up from school tomorrow and me and Evan are gonna have a little chat," he informed his brother as he pushed his chair back and stood. "Little shit is gonna pay for this." He lifted the schoolbag with one hand and examined the tear with the other. "One way or another."

"I don't want you fighting my battles, how many times do I have to tell you that?," Sam shouted at him.

Dean's internal anger found a pressure valve and it blew steam at his brother. "Well damn well fight them yourself instead of letting this dick push you around!"

"Dad would be pissed if I got into trouble and he got called, you know that, happened enough times to you. Besides, dad's back at the weekend and we'll be gone so what does it matter? Can't you just wait until Friday and go break his teeth then?" Sam stared at him and then his lip dropped even further than it had already. "What? Oh no! I know that look! He's called, hasn't he?"

Dean turned so that his back was to his brother, fighting tears of frustration that sprang from nowhere into his eyes. He walked over to the small kitchen and laid his hands on the counter top. "One week." He wiped a hand down his face and stared at the scarred wood of the kitchen cabinet doors. "Maybe two."

"So that means we gotta call Bobby and go there then?" Sam said almost gleefully as he bounced off the bed and moved over to stand behind his brother, watching as Dean reached up and mindlessly started to search the near empty cupboards above his head. "Dean, right?"

"We can manage for a few more days and I can stall the super on the rent, won't be the first time."

"No." Sam pulled his arm and turned his brother to face him. "No. Dad said that if the money ran out we were to use the card but you already did that for the car. You got the tyres fixed so that means the money is out and that means we call Bobby."

Dean shrugged himself free. "No. That means I'm still in charge here and we've still got enough for groceries for the next four or five days, so no, we don't have to call yet."

"Why not?" Sam didn't stamp his foot but he didn't look far off from doing it.

"Because I said so!," Dean shouted at him.

Sam stood for a second and then turned on his heel heading for the bedside cabinet. "I'm calling him."

Dean was moving. "No you're damn well not. We can manage for another week." He reached his brother just as Sam grabbed his phone from the drawer and called up Bobby's number.

"No we can't. I'm not eating omelettes for another week or until dad decides to remember we're alive."

Catching his brother's wrist Dean twisted it and yanked the cell from his grip. "You're not calling!"

"Ow, that hurt!" Sam stepped back and rubbed at his wrist. "Give me that back!"

Dean shoved the cell into his pocket. "Make me!"

Sam's charge caught him off guard and he stumbled back onto the other bed, his brother landing on top of him. "Give me it!"

Dean let out a yelp as his brother's knee landed in an awkward place causing him to curl up and roll throwing Sam off the bed and into the cabinet. There was the solid sound of a crack as soft skin connected with hard wood. Dean was scrambling to get up, managing it just as his brother sat upright, blood trailing across his forehead and down into his eye. "Look what you did!," he spat at his elder brother, hand rising to assess the damage.

"I'm sorry," Dean offered all trace of anger at his brother gone. He slid to his knees in front of Sam and gently reached out to push his brother's hair back so he could see the cut more clearly. "It's not too bad." He let his other hand slide down under Sam's chin and tilted his brother head up to ease the trail of blood and to get him to look at him. "Please, just let's give it a few more days before we go running to Bobby. Just see how things go."

Sam studied Dean's face and sighed. "Fine, but if the super comes to the door more than once or we get down to the last egg, I'm calling him. Give me my phone back."

Dean hesitated.

"Don't you trust me, because if you don't you know there are plenty of other phones that I can use to make the call?"

Dean pulled his brother to his feet. "Promise me you won't call without telling me? Let me handle it okay?"

Sam held out his hand. "Promise," he said but he didn't look up.

With a sigh Dean handed him the phone knowing that if things got bad, if he let them get bad, Sam would break that promise. "Here. Let's get you cleaned up and get you something to eat. What do you want?"

"Omelette?," Sam offered the olive branch with a slight chuckle as his brother pushed him gently towards the bathroom.

Dean felt a little of the weight in his chest lift as he chuckled back, "good choice."

* * *

><p>"Don't you think you should call them?" Bobby was sitting at the table in his kitchen, feet up and a book on wendigos balanced on his knees. "Doesn't look like your boy is gonna do like you asked John. I mean it's Wednesday already and my phone's still quiet."<p>

"No, he'll phone Bobby, he will." John scraped at a mark on the dashboard in front of him.

"Hope you're right John because you know what the alternative might be don'tcha?"

"He'll call."

It took Bobby a few minutes to realise that he was listening to dead air. "Boy has a stubborn streak a mile long John," he muttered to no one. "He's a proud little son of a bitch too who doesn't like to ask for help. Wonder where he gets that from?," he asked himself as he dropped the phone back on the table and went back to reading.

* * *

><p>"I won't be long," Dean told his brother, sliding his coat on as he did. "I just need some air."<p>

"Then let me come with you."

Dean frowned. "I just want half an hour to clear my head and be on my own, is that too much to ask?"

"Are you gonna go try and get us some money because dad said…."

"…oh so now you're gonna start listening to what dad says?" Snatching his keys from the table Dean stopped at the door. "Half an hour, I promise and I ain't gonna try and get money okay? If dad doesn't call tomorrow we'll pack up and head to Bobby's, alright?"

Sam smiled. "You want me to start packing when you're out?"

A soft laugh escaped his brother. "Knock yourself out."

Dean stepped out into the cold, fresh night air and sighed a sigh of relief at being outdoors. He'd skipped school this last few days and had hardly been out of the apartment since the weekend and he could swear that the walls really had been closing in on him.

Pulling up the collar of his jacket he walked by the car and headed in the direction of the bar he'd had his hand almost broken in hoping that he could get in and maybe scam someone into a game of pool even without having stake money. That hope was dashed when he sneaked in through the back door and saw that his friends from the other night were monopolising the tables. He slipped out the way he'd slipped in and then just walked; no direction in mind but still he wasn't surprised when his feet took him down to where Max and a few others he recognised were standing. He needed money for gas, not a lot just enough to get them to Bobby's without having to phone the man and beg like a little bitch to get funds wired to him. To let him know that he couldn't cope with dad being delayed a little and to confess about his stupidity with the Impala. Stopping on the edge of the street he watched the boys work a few cars and take some guys down into the alley behind where they stood and his stomach churned. He could do this, he knew he could but still he didn't like it and if dad ever found out he'd disobeyed an order, especially this one; well that made his stomach churn even more.

Still undecided of what he was going to do he walked down towards Max anyway smiling when the other boy raised a hand in acknowledgement when he saw him. "What the hell are you doing back down here? Did your brother split on you again? And what, no coffee?"

Dean shook his head. "Don't have money for coffee, sorry. Sam's back at the apartment. Dad's late back."

Max looked at him and shook his head. "You're old man's worse than mine. Least mine cut the rope when he kicked me to the kerb, didn't keep me hanging from it."

"It's not like that."

His friend shrugged. "Sure, whatever. So, you gonna work for a little while tonight?"

Dean shrugged in return. "Dunno. No….maybe?"

Max looked at him.

"What?"

"You shouldn't be here; you should go back to your brother. Bet he wouldn't be too happy to know that you're down here because of him."

"It's not because of him but I'm the one in charge okay? It's my job to look out for him."

"Who looks out for you?" Max watched the guy walking along the street towards them and pushed up off the wall when he slowed his approach. "Customer," he hissed at Dean.

"I look out for myself," Dean answered his question and then turned to look at the man walking their way. The guy's eyes shifted from Max to him and he knew which one of them was about to get propositioned, what he didn't know was what he was going to do about it.

* * *

><p>Sam looked at his watch and frowned. Dean had been gone longer than an hour and the phone that he sat with in his hand was a heavy burden which he would like nothing more than to do but use and pass the strain onto someone else. He'd promised Dean though and so he dropped the phone onto the table and decided to give his brother another half hour and then he was calling Bobby, promise or not.<p>

* * *

><p>Dean shivered as the guy's lip touched his ear and he whispered what he wanted from him into it.<p>

He stepped back, watched the guy frown a little and then reach for his wallet. The cash seemed to catch the light, the man boldly holding it out to him expecting him to just take and follow him and Dean almost did. He almost let his little inner voice that was telling him he needed the cash to win but suddenly he could see his father's face in front of him and he could see the disappointment, the disgust and the anger written on it. He reached out and grasped the man's hand, curling his fingers back over the temptation of dinner and breakfast for him and Sam; of gas for the car. "No," he said, watching the guy's eyes react to the snub.

"You a street whore or not kid? I ain't paying you more than the going rate, no matter how pretty you are," the guy hissed at him attempting to switch the hold around and grab Dean's wrist.

He was so intent on watching the man in front of him a hand landing on his shoulder caused Dean to jump and beside him he heard Max mutter an 'oh shit' before the hand spun him round and he knew he was in trouble.

* * *

><p>Bobby jumped when the phone rang, his book sliding to the floor and his hand clipping the edge of the table as he jerked awake and fumbled for it.<p>

"Bobby?"

The way that one word was said and more so that it was Sam that was saying it had Bobby reaching for his keys even as he asked, "What's up kid? Where's your brother?"

"I don't know Bobby. He went out over two hours ago and he hasn't come back yet. I tried his phone but he must have turned it off."

"You still at the apartments that your daddy dropped you off at?," the older man asked as he locked up and headed for his truck.

"Yeah."

"Okay then, sit tight Sam, I'm on my way."

Bobby dialled John as he was pulling out onto the main road. The phone was answered on the second ring. "So, Sam call you then?"

"Yeah. Sounds as if there's some trouble John, Dean went out a coupla hours ago and hasn't come back. I'm on the road already. Are you in Lupton?"

John took a deep breath. "Oh there's trouble alright. Dean showed up on the street."

Bobby cursed and put his foot harder to the floor. "Shit kid, you were supposed to damn well phone," he muttered to himself. "Well?," he asked John.

"Some guy approached him and his friend. Looked like he wanted Dean to go with him; tried to give him money."

"And?"

John kicked out at the body lying at his feet causing it to moan loudly and try and curl in on itself. "Guy's gonna be thinking twice about asking kids on the street for sexual favours for a long time to come," he answered in a tone of voice that chilled Bobby to the core.

"What did you do? Where's Dean?"

"Nothing that won't heal." He landed another kick on the ribs of the man on the ground. "Eventually."

Bobby overtook two cars and then asked John again. "Where is Dean John?"


	17. Chapter 17

This story is almost there now (I think)! Thanks again for sticking with it and for your reviews and alerts. ((hugs)) Mary x

* * *

><p>Dean was spun to be greeted by the seething anger in the face of his father and he had only a few seconds to hope that his death would be quick if not painless when the man's fist flew towards his face. He closed his eyes and braced for the impact. There was a rush of air on his face as the clenched fingers skimmed his cheek and landed on that of the man behind him.<p>

The hand still gripping Dean's jacket pulled him to the side and he stumbled as he was let go, John moving past him as he did.

The guy who had been trying to buy his son was still reeling from the blow as John's fingers closed round his throat and he was dragged kicking and struggling in the direction of the alley where only moments before he had wanted to go. "Get in the car," John growled at Dean as he passed him. "Grey sedan." Dean followed the nod of his father's head and saw the old Ford half hidden in the space between two buildings down from where they stood.

He hesitated too long and John was in his face. "Get in the fucking car now or you're going into the alley with us!"

Dean backed off instinctively from the venom in his father's voice, shaking his head at Max as his friend stepped forward to intervene. He took another step back as John moved towards the alley, the guy who he had a hold of increasing his struggling to break free of the iron-cast grip that held him.

Dean walked slowly backwards until John reached the edge of the alley and turned to glare at him and then he turned to cross the road to the car. Fear prickled his skin as he checked for traffic and then stepped off the kerb into the street.

"Hey," Max called softly to him. He turned and found his friend heading towards him, hurrying his steps until he caught Dean up and then falling into step beside him. "What's he going to do to that guy?"

"Don't know," Dean answered a little ashamed that he didn't care either.

"Shouldn't we stop him?" Max put a hand on Dean's arm and tried to stop him but he was shrugged off.

Snorting at his friend Dean shook his head. "Only if you've got a death wish. He's going hurt him but I'd doubt he'd kill him…..me on the other hand…." He wiped a hand down his face and then turned to face Max as they reached the car. "You better go. He's not gonna be long and then he's gonna come over here and you really don't want to be here when he does."

"What's he going to do?"

"Nothing I can't handle." Dean reached for the car door and pulled it opened. "Please, just go."

Max hesitated, cast a glance to the alley John had disappeared down and frowned at the lack of noise from it. "You sure he isn't going to kill him?"

"I'm sure."

Max took another look at the alley and shrugged. "It was quiet tonight anyway. Are you going to be okay? What'll he do to you for being down here?"

_Skin me alive? Ground me forever? Kick my ass? _Dean really had no idea what John's punishment was going to be for this because he'd never pushed his father this far. Even Sam knew better than to push his father this far. "I'll be okay, he'll work it out on the guy, I'll probably get away with being screamed at and a year of chores."

Pulling a pen from his pocket Max pulled Dean's sleeve up and scrawled his number on his arm. "You need some place to go, you call me okay?"

Dean nodded, pulling the fabric back into place. "Thanks," he said with a genuine smile on his face.

"Better book before he comes back. You take care alright?" Max raised his hand and bumped fists with Dean and then turned and walked away down the street, stopping at the corner to give a quick glance back before disappearing round it.

Dean let out a shaky breath of air and then collapsed into the passenger seat to await his fate.

* * *

><p>It was the ringing of his phone that calmed John's temper and stopped him actually killing the man that now lay at his feet in a heap. He ended the call to Bobby and pocketed the phone while using his free hand to lean on the wall of the alley and let the red mist that had descended on him lift slightly before he went out and beat the living shit out of his son too.<p>

When he felt his calm finally return some he knelt down next to the guy on the floor and pulled his head up invoking a muffled plea as the bruised and battered face was lifted up level with his own. "I ever catch you here again; you won't be walking away from it." He reached down and lifted the man's left hand and brushed his fingers over the ring that he wore. "Good luck explaining this to her, I hope she kicks your ass to the curb." With that he let the man drop back down and pulled his phone again. "Hello? Yeah I'd like to report what looks like a mugging. Some guy got taken by a street hustler he was trying to pick up." He relayed the address to the dispatcher and then hung up. "You have a nice day now," he spat at the fallen form and then stepped over him and out into the street.

Dean watched his father crossing the road and tried to decide on a course of action. John had obviously been watching for him which meant that the being late back had been some sort of a test, which he had just failed spectacularly. A little anger rose in him that his father hadn't trusted him when he had promised not to do this but then again he had just proven that mistrust justified. He ran a hand through his hair and settled on silence being his best option.

John opened the door and slid into the driver's seat, starting her right away and pulling out into the street without so much as a word. He didn't glance at Dean nor make any attempt to bitch him out for his actions and the longer they drove, the harder it was for Dean to remain quiet. Finally the strain proved too much. "I'm sorry. I wasn't going to…..I thought about it…dad?"

John didn't acknowledge that he'd spoken and Dean felt panic rise in him when they drove past the turn for their apartment block and headed out towards the outskirts of town. "Sam…," he started but John turned to him at that and he felt his throat constrict under the stare levelled at him.

"Bobby's got him."

They lapsed back into silence again until finally John signalled and pulled the car into an old abandoned motel. He drove her round to the rear of the property and killed the engine. "Get out."

Dean waited until John had climbed out himself and then got out. Unsure of what to do next he closed the door and leant on the car's roof.

"Get your ass over here," John growled as he slipped his jacket off and dropped it on the bonnet of the car.

Dean swallowed nervously but he did as he was told.

"Loose the jacket and the shirt." John rolled up the sleeves of his own shirt and then crossed his arms and waited.

Doing as asked Dean pulled his jacket off and then his shirt and put them down on top of his father's jacket before turning to face John.

"Since you seemed to be hell bent on putting yourself in dangerous situations with no back up no matter what the hell I ask you to do I think it's time to up your combat skills," John said with a smile that didn't reflect in his cold, dark eyes.

Dean pulled his colt from the back of his jeans and dropped it on the pile of clothing already knowing that he was going to be spending the next god knows how many hours on his ass.

John stepped into his personal space. "You better bring it Dean," was all the warning he got before John stepped back and hauled a punch at him. He blocked it, just, his forearm stinging where the blow had landed. John's left though was already on its way into Dean's side, his lungs letting their protest at the rough treatment be known. Before he could straighten John's other fist connected with his face this time and Dean was on his backside in the dirt.

"Too slow and not thinking ahead," John told him as, watching his side, Dean scrambled to his feet. He somehow managed to duck out of reach before John got a swing at him again and then he stood there waiting for the next move.

It came quickly.

John rushed at him and Dean did the one thing he knew he shouldn't. He panicked and reached blindly out to try and halt the charge. His father's shoulder connected with his chest and arms gripped him, lifting him off his feet and throwing him backwards. His lungs got their second attempt of the day at having the air knocked out of them and he had to grit his teeth when his back and arm connected with the loose gravel of the car park, peeling the skin on his left arm and the small of his back as he slid backwards along the ground. "That all you got?, John asked gruffly as he moved towards him. Dean scrambled back and tried to get to his feet only to end up on his backside again as John swept his feet away from him with his leg and punched him.

Swearing Dean got out of range and made his feet the time. His father's anger at him was a living, breathing thing and Dean knew that it was going to be a long, painful afternoon as he managed to land a punch on John's cheek before ending up on his ass again.

He lost count after that but he knew that his backside would be bruised and sore for days and he felt like all the skin on his arms had been peeled from them. Washing the dirt out of those was going to be fun, he thought grimly as he climbed to his feet again. His only consolation was that John was favouring his left arm and had more than a few cut and bruises of his own on his face and forearms.

Dean was dragged from his musing by John's fist catching his t-shirt and pulling him off balance and down onto his knees. His t-shirt tore as John didn't let go and his old jeans acquired some more designer rips as the stones caught the old material and tore both it and his knees. He watched his blood stain the stones and something in him snapped.

Temper finally rising he hauled himself back to his feet only to have to duck quickly as another punch flew at his face, just missing. John grabbed him again, experience outweighing pace and Dean found his arm twisted up his back and he was down on his knees with his face in the dirt before he could blink.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered as John scraped his face on the hard stones.

"Still think you can handle yourself?," his father taunted him and Dean realised at that moment that he'd had it. "Hell with it," he spat out.

His father wanted to see his combat skills?

Fine by him!

With that he brought his head back hard connecting with John's nose and face and giving himself enough leeway to buck his father off and to the side. Still a little dazed himself though Dean could only crawl to the car and then drag himself up against it. He got upright just in time to be flattened into it by his father's weight. "So, what are you going to do when someone doesn't take no for an answer or fights back?" The words were growled in his ear and John moved his leg and eased Dean's own apart. "Well?"

Dean's arm ached where John's fingers dug into the skin that was torn and bleeding and his ribs were sore from the push of his father's bulk but most of all, he was just really, really pissed now. Angry at himself more than he was his dad he still used that irk, channelled it into his response. He raked John's leg with his heel, digging in hard and causing his father to swear and loosen his grip. Free to move Dean pushed back with his ass getting enough space to raise his hands and use that to push himself off the car. He turned quickly and reached for John's shirt. Reeling his father in before he could react, Dean planted his forehead right onto John's nose. Blood blinded Dean's vision but he knew he didn't need his eyes for his next move. "I'd kill their urge," Dean offered calmly bringing his knee up cleanly and sharply into his father's groin and then shoving him back hard.

John let out some kind of feral grunt and collapsed on his ass, hands dropping instinctively to ease the pain and protect him from another attack. He blinked the blood out his eyes and Dean is there, face up hard against his own and the cold touch of his son's butterfly knife resting against his throat.

A grin settled on John's face. "Better," was the only word he said before he threw his head back and laughed.

Dean eased the knife back, worried that he'd nick John accidentally and the battle would become a war. He sat there and just stared at the madman before him. _Finally pushed him over the edge,_ he thought as he slipped his knife back into its ankle holster and then rocked back onto his heels to stand. As he turned towards the car John's laughter died abruptly and before Dean could react there were hands round his ankles and he was down on his knees, again, his palms this time though taking the full brunt of his fall. That was until his head connected with the side of the car and then the concrete beneath it.

He went down hard and he stayed down.

"Shit! Dean!" John scrambled to get up beside his son. There was blood on the stones under Dean's head John noted as he gently slid his fingers carefully through his son's hair to check the damage. A curse escaped him as his fingers came away far too bloody and then he cursed again at the touch of Dean's knife to his throat.

He let out a soft snort of amusement at being faked out by his own goddamn son!

"Forgot," Dean hissed out. "It ain't over until one of you dies or yields, so which one is it gonna be?"

John looked down at his son's face and lets that grin rest on his features again. "Yield."

"You sure? 'Cause I think there's still some skin left on my right arm that you missed," Dean deadpanned dryly before he dropped his knife and rolled into the car to pull himself onto his feet.

John reached out a hand. "Help me up bitch."

He got a stare for that but no assistance as Dean walked to the front of the car and ripped off the remains of his t-shirt. His chest was starting to rainbow where John's fists had connected and his arms itched like hell but he felt that he had proved something to his father today.

"Fucking kids," he heard John mutter from close behind him. "Hand me my jacket."

Dean slipped his shirt on and lifted both jackets, handing John his. Fingers tightened round his wrist as he did. "You disobey me on this again and you won't be getting back up out the dirt next time is that clear?"

"I wasn't going to. I thought about it, but I wasn't going to because I promised you I wouldn't."

John put a hand under Dean's chin and forced his son to look at him. The truth of what his son was saying shone in his eyes and John sighed. "Couldn't have told me that before we knocked the shit outta each other?," he asked pulling the car keys from his pocket and opening the door.

Dean opened his mouth to say something but he didn't have a comeback for that he wasn't sure would cause him to end up back on his ass in the dirt so he just shook his head and moved to get in the car too.

John sat tapping the wheel for a minute or two before he started the engine. "Brother's gonna ask where you were, are you ready to tell him?"

The horror struck look on his son's face gave John his answer.

"I got an idea." Easing the car out into the street John opened her up and headed back into town. "And this one, I think you're gonna like," he grinned.

* * *

><p>Sam was at his truck door almost before the wheels had stopped rolling. "Did you get him?" He stuck his nose in the cab as if expecting his brother to materialise in the passenger seat.<p>

"Does it look like I got him?," Bobby groused, easing himself out of the truck and pushing Sam out of his way.

"Well we need to go look for him!" Sam blocked the older hunter's path and received a smack on the head for it.

"Didn't say I didn't know where he was, just that it ain't with me and I need to pee before I need to do anything."

He walked into the apartment and headed for the toilet, Sam trailing in his wake firing questions at him as he did. "Where is he then? Is he okay? Are we going to get him? Why didn't he answer his phone?"

Bobby slammed the door in Sam's face and sat down on the toilet. "Winchesters, hate the lot of 'em." He rose back up to take care of business and wondered how long Sam would give him in here before he popped the lock and demanded answers.

Sam was pacing outside the door when Bobby finally opened it. "Where's my brother?," he demanded in a voice that would have got him another smack to the head if Bobby had been within range.

"I don't know….," the older man started.

"You don't know?," Sam shouted. "But you said….nnghnghfdn!"

Bobby didn't know what the boy had mumbled under his hand which now rested across Sam's mouth and he wasn't sure he wanted to. "He's with your dad. I don't know where exactly but I reckon he should be safe enough with John." Bobby said a silent prayer that he was right and dropped into the seat at the table.

"Where was he? Has he been with dad the whole time? When did dad get back?"

The groan that escaped from the hunter was long and heart felt. "Don't know, don't know, and don't know." Okay so the last one was a lie but Bobby wasn't in the mood to face the Spanish Inquisition a 'your daddy's been watching you for a week' would bring on so he lied. Sue me, he thought.

"Well do you at least know when they're coming back?" Sam crossed his arms and huffed the hair out of his eyes.

"Don't know."

Sam threw his arms wide and crossed to the bed. "Fat lot of good you are," he moaned reaching for his phone and dialling his dad's number. It went to voicemail. "Where are you guys? I want to know what's going on!" He tossed the phone on the bed and turned back to Bobby who was looking at the stuff on the table.

What are these?," he asked.

Sam looked at him. "What do they look like?," he snapped and got a raised eyebrow from the hunter. "They are postcards," he continued a little more civilly.

"No shit Sherlock. Where did you get 'em?" Bobby looked at the writing on the back of them and then dropped them on the table, fanning them out to look at the pictures.

"When I went missing…I found a hut on a construction site to hole up in…the guys seemed to have been collecting them…..must move around a lot."

Bobby pushed back his cap. "Mmmmhuh." He tapped the edge of one of the cards on the desk and looked over at Sam. "Any reason you took these one in particular? Cambridge, Palo Alto, Princeton…New Haven…these guys get around. Nice towns." He paused. "Saint Andrews? Isn't that in Scotland?" he turned the card over and frowned. "Bit far to go to get away from your father and your brother'll never go with you there you know. Still," Bobby shuffled the postcards into a little pile again. "all good university towns."

Sam coloured a little, walked over, picked them up and went and stuck them in his duffle. "I just liked the pictures on them. That's all."

"Sure you did," Bobby said with a smile. "Not much to hunt in these areas though, I think the preppies scare the ghouls off. Hell they scare me. So, you thinking of leaving us then Sam? Got your eye on something other than hunting as your pro-bono career?"

"I ain't doing anything pro-bono and it pays to keep your options open."

Bobby cackled at that. "Sure does kid, especially in this game."

tbc


	18. Chapter 18

Hi folks. Sorry for the huge delay in the updating of this story. I haven't been online much in the last year between family and work traumas...was expecting Dean to appear and tell me I'd fell into Purgatory with him lol. Anyway here is the next chapter, finally, and I have the next few worked through. Having re-read this I've changed how it was going to end so we'll see where it goes together. Thank you all for your eternal patience, the next chapter will be up before Xmas I hope and God willing there will be more after New Year. Enjoy xx

"So," John asked as he eased the car he was driving up to thirty, "where's this bar?" He gestured to Dean's hand with his head and watched as his son turned to look at him.

"Why?"

John smiled. "Thought we could pay your friends a little visit, even up the odds a little, show them what happens when you screw around with a Winchester."

Truth was, John needed something to hit, something other than his son, and in his mind the guys that had messed up Dean's hand fit the bill perfectly. They were as responsible for his son ending up on his knees in the alley as John felt, their actions leaving his son with no other quick fix choice for money other than the one that he had taken. Dean's decision and John's part in it had placed a crushing, heavy burden on his shoulders that he needed to shift before it took him down the way Mary burning on the ceiling nearly had. John could see his tombstone, his epitaph clearly painted on it in his family's blood – Here lies John Winchester, tried and found wanting, failed as a husband, failed as a father, failed, failed, failed…

"Dad, you okay?"

Dean's worried tone dragged him from his thoughts and self-loathing.

"Yeah, I'm fine." John wiped at his face with his hand aware that his son was staring at him, the worry in Dean's voice etched on his face. Slapping the steering wheel he shot a look at his son "So, I'm driving, how about you steer?"

"Take a right," Dean offered, settling back in the passenger seat and looking out the window.

"Okay, tell me about them."

Dean sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. "There were three of them….."

John stopped outside the bar and scowled over at his son. "Four bars in this town and you chose this one to hustle in?"

"Was the only one that I could get in and we needed rent money," his son answered with a small shrug of his shoulders.

John sighed and then as two guys roughly the size of small houses stepped out the door his scowl deepened. "Jesus Christ Dean, should I be going in here and thanking the guys for not killing you instead of busting their asses for touching you?"

"They aren't as big as those two," Dean offered matter of factly as he reached for the door. "Just," he added, stepping out into the car park.

"Sometimes I swear I'm wasting my time trying to teach you how to be safe," John grumbled ignoring the snort that brought from the other side of the vehicle. He locked the doors and then followed his son across the black top surface and up the stairs. "Restrooms first," he growled, snagging Dean's arm and pushing him through a crowd that could easily have passed for the cast of Deliverance and didn't that just have John checking his Colt was still in his waistband.

"What were you thinking?," he hissed as he pushed Dean in the door and up against the counter.

"Same thing I was thinking when I went into that alley, I was thinking that I didn't want my brother sleeping in the car and going hungry again." There was no challenge in his son's voice, just a weary resignation that tore again at John's core and almost had him wishing that Dean was challenging him, calling him on the way he made them live instead of just accepting his lot in life with a shrug and a half assed smile. Still, one son doing that all the time was probably more than John could handle and besides, he had a ready channel for his anger tonight and once he had seen to his son he was going out to vent it.

"Let's see your head," he asked calming himself with the simple, familiar task of assessing his son's injuries.

"Here?" Dean raised an eyebrow and took in the grubby surroundings. "That junker we're in is cleaner inside!"

John didn't say anything he just pulled a small first aid kit from his jacket and put it on the shelf over the sink.

Sighing Dean turned, sat on the edge of the sink and tilted his head down so John could work.

Deft fingers felt out the opening in his hair line. "Not too deep," his father observed removing his hand and grabbing some paper towels from the holder. "Stay still," was the order as John swapped the kit for his hip flask. He stuck the towels over Dean's eyebrow and poured whisky into the cut smiling as his son muttered an obscenity under his breath but didn't move.

John finished the task quickly, deciding to leave the wound open for now since it had stopped bleeding. He could feel Dean's eyes on him as he tidied the kit away and stowed it back inside his jacket.

"So," he asked his father. "How are we doing this?"

"Gonna make them bleed, you are strictly back up. You hear me?"

Dean nodded and John slapped a hand to his chest. "Okay, let's do this."

-spn-

The guys raised their heads when John placed the bottle of beer on the edge of the table that they were playing on. "Can we help you with something?," the tallest one asked, moving towards him and turning the cue in his hand as he did.

"I was looking for a game," the hunter offered congenially. "Since you boys are already on the table I wondered if you were up for a little challenge match?"

"You run into trouble?," one of the others wearing a blue shirt asked him as he made his way round the table from the other side effectively pinning John between him and his friend with the cue.

"Some little punk with bad hair and a bad attitude thought that his pretty face and smart mouth would be enough to save him from an ass kicking." John pretended to take a slug of his beer and grinned. "It wasn't."

"Hate to see the other guy if you were the one that won. So you like a little action with your action?" Blue shirt nodded his head to the cash resting on the far end of the table and then looked back at John.

"How much to get in the game?"

"Fifty."

John considered it for a moment or two and then nodded, pulling his wallet from his pocket. "Wrack 'em."

He let them win the first game and then doubled the bet, not even trying to hide his skill when he demolished them in the second one. He smiled at the anger that his sinking the black ball sparked in his opponent's eyes.

"What is it with you guys that you think you can come in here and hustle us eh?," blue shirt growled at him putting his cue on the table and started towards John, eyes watching as the hunter reached for the cash on the edge of the table and pocketed it.

"Maybe it's because you three reek of stupid?," John asked, a grin lighting up his face.

That lit the flame. "Oh, you're gonna reek of something else when we've shown you why you shoulda taken your cheating ass to some other bar," offered one of the others as he stepped up closer to John.

"Had a score to settle with you boys." He took a swig of his beer, looked over to where Dean was talking to what was probably the only decent looking female at the bar and then turned back to his new friends. "But you know what? I'm done screwing around here. I'm cold, it's been a damn long week and I'm tired of playing games. Think you guys can take on someone your own size, instead of a seventeen year old kid?"

Blue shirt followed his gaze, tilted his head and then laughed. "You know that little shit that was in here."

John's grin turned feral. "That little shit happens to be my boy and I ain't too pleased with what you did to his hand."

"Then you've gonna be really pissed at what we're gonna do to you."

He stepped forward and straight into John's fist

-spn-

Dean was driving. John stared at his son and then turned his eyes back to the road watching as the junker ate away the black top in front of them. The world still had a tinge of red to it, a mist that clouded his vision and clung to his hands and his clothes. He wasn't sure whether it was due to the rage that still bubbled under his skin or if it was real blood that coated his world and his skin. The veins in his neck pulsed with anger, his head throbbed and he closed his eyes again to calm his mind. Trying to work back to the last thing he could remember clearly he found he couldn't so he turned to his son.

"What the hell happened?" he asked.

"Was hoping you could tell me," Dean answered dryly, slowing the car as the rain began to beat down on the windshield.

John opened his eyes and then rolled down the window letting a little of the moisture from outside in to cleanse his ire and to listen for the sounds of sirens which he was sure would soon grace the air in confirmation that he'd lost it back at the bar.

"You punched me," Dean offered into the silence. "Twice." He sounded pissed.

"Sorry. You okay?"

"I'll live."

The click of the indicator sounded as Dean signalled a turn.

"So, what did I do?"

"You punched me."

John sighed, played the game Dean wanted him to. "Why?"

"I was trying to stop you from strangling the guy."

"Should have seen it coming."

Dean huffed. "I did. I feint to the left!"

The sigh was louder this time. "So how did I hit you then?"

"You were quicker than me, angled it away straight into me. Twice."

John wanted to laugh, didn't think he should. "So what happened to the other two?"

"Concussion, few broken bones and a serious beat down. One of them's a hospital case for sure."

"What did it?"

Dean glanced at him, drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Something one of them said triggered the Winchester warhead. You nuked the guy that spoke and the rest got burned by the fallout. Was almost over before I even got my ass outta the seat it was on. "

"What'd he say?" John remembered something, the brush of lips to his ear and that hateful word…..

"Dunno, couldn't hear," Dean continued. "Something about me, I guess…"

_Your kid's nothing but a cheap whore…_John's skin rippled as the guy's voice sounded in his head, the words designed to anger him but the subject to close to home, the fuse lit too short to do anything but burn hot and fast.

"They call 911?"

"I called 911."

John rolled his head round to stare at his son. "That bad?"

"When the kinda people that hang out in that bar don't want to get involved…yeah, it was that bad." His son shot him a look and started to ease the car over to make the turn onto the highway. "Bit of overkill for a busted hand and some bruises," Dean muttered as he eased the car into the traffic.

"There were three of them and you're only seventeen."

"I hustled them out of a ton."

"..and they broke your hand for it…."

"Well you broke a head, a hand and an arm, at the least, so I think we're more than even."

"Wake me up when we get back," John muttered not wanting to think about the carnage he must have caused to be realising just how much of a world of hurt he was going to be nursing in the morning. "You okay?"

"Peachy," Dean poked him in the side, "….and no sleeping with a concussion."

"Concussion?"

"Busted a glass over your head and followed it with a hello from the business end of a pool cue."

"Explains the headache."

"Stay awake then…."

John just growled and closed his eyes.

-spn-

"Dad? Dad?"

John tried to prise open his eyes but the light was too bright when he did and so he shut them again and tried to sink down away from it.

"Dad!" A shake rattled his teeth and made his head pound.

"Dad!"

Dean, it was Dean that was calling his name and that finally sinking in got John enough juice to get his eyes to open and stay open. Dean's blood streaked, worried face swam into his line of vision.

"You with me?"

John hoped the groan and the fact that he had managed to raise his hand would translate as yes.

"Didn't I say no sleeping with a concussion?"

"Screw you."

Dean snorted. "Elegant."

"I thought so. Drink?"

"No thanks."

"You're not funny! Dean!"

The flask dropped on his lap. "Small sip,….hey."

John peeled the flask from his lips. "Watch the damn road Dean!"

Dean eased the car back onto the right side of the road. "Well do as you're told."

"Don't push your luck; I'm still mad at you." _Should be mad at yourself John Winchester!_ "This isn't over." John rested his head back on the seat and closed his eyes. "I ain't sleeping," he pre-emptied his son's next words. "I'm just resting my eyes."

Dean just snorted again but there was no further back chat so John let his mind drift away from the pain of his body letting him know its displeasure at his treatment of it. "Too old for this shit," he groused as he slipped back down into sleep.

The car slowing roused him just before Dean's sharp elbow did. He opened his eyes to the sight and sound of hail battering the windshield. "When did that start?"

"Few minutes ago, friggin' freaky weather!"

John slowly raised his head and tried to see over to the apartment door through the white balls bouncing in front of him. "Thought for sure your brother would be waiting on us at the door."

"What, and get his girly hair wet?"

John laughed loudly and then cringed at the pain the noise caused in his head. He turned away from the cold blast that blew into the car when Dean opened his door only to face another one when his son rounded the car and opened the one John was leaning on.

"Easy, I got you."

John batted away the hands that tried to help him. "I got it, get in the apartment before you drown."

Dean didn't let go, just hauled John out into the frigid air and eased round him to slam the car door.

"Son of a bitch," John growled as the hail battered his already aching head.

"Come on." Dean dragged him across the car park and under the comparative shelter of the leaking porch.

"Told you I got it." John freed his key from his pocket and turned to face the door, thwarted in his attempts to open it by the fact there seemed to be multiple locks spinning on its surface.

There was a curse from behind him and Dean snatched the key from him, ramming it into one of the locks and turning it. John stumbled inside, catching the front of the table and neatly parking himself in the chair next to it.

Bobby tipped his cap back and raised his head. "What the hell happened to you two?"

John dropped his head down on the table with a groan. "I'm too old for this shit anymore," he groused.

Raising his eyes to the younger Winchester Bobby shot him a questioning look. "Who won?"

"Bar glass, a cue and oh…us. I think."

Bobby barked out a laugh that brought a mop of hair out from under the heap of bed clothes on the bed.

"Now I've done it." The elder hunter stood. "You need a hand with your daddy?"

Dean shook his head as he watched his younger brother try to disentangle himself from the sheet only to fail and fall out the side of the bed and flat on his face. "Where the hell have you been!?"

Bobby threw Dean a quick smirk. "What about your brother?"

With an eye roll the boy moved over and helped his sibling to his feet. "No, I got that too."

"Apartment 24, next door, if you need me." He looked at John and then Dean. "Bring John through once you both are all cleaned up. I'll do the checks tonight, you look like hammered crap. You want me to get food?"

"Nah, it's too late." Dean looked at his watch. "Or too early…thanks Bobby."

"No problem. Enjoy." He tossed his head at Sam and then left.

Sam freed himself from his brother's grip and drew a breath to speak only to be silenced by Dean's stare. "Don't,.. okay, just don't. I'm beat, literally and figuratively. Go get the first aid kit," Dean growled at his younger brother, moving back over to where his father sat. "Stay awake!"

"Back off." John pushed himself to his feet, swayed and then headed for the bathroom. "Sam see to that wound on your brother's head while I get cleaned up a little." Shutting the door on any protests John sunk down onto the toilet seat with a sigh and closed his eyes.

"What the hell Dean?," his brother questioned as he forced his elder sibling to sit and opened the first aid kit on the table. "Did you two fight world war three on your own?" A hand landed on Dean's head and tilted it down. "Keep it there."

"Went back to the bar, paid those guys that did my hand a visit."

"Well, did you kill them, because that is gotta be the only way that they'd look worse than you do. Stay still."

Sam peeled his brother's jacket off and then hissed through his teeth at the state of his brother's arms. "You did not get that," he prodded one of the long grazes with a finger, "in a bar fight, not unless it spilled out into the car park. Dad did this, didn't he?"

"We had a training session before we went to the bar. I'm good Sam." Dean pulled away from his brother and stood.

"I'm not finished," Sam started but Dean stopped him.

"I am Sam. I'm gonna check on dad and then I'm gonna get some sleep. You should to, tomorrow's a school day. Wouldn't do to have you falling asleep and missing something important like Geek 101." He shot his brother half a smile and then went over to pound on the bathroom door.

Sam huffed his hair out of his eyes. "We'll talk in the morning. I want to know what's going on!"

"Whatever," Dean muttered in his direction.

John opened the door on the twentieth pound. "I'm fine." He stepped passed Dean and out into the room. "Go get a shower and cleaned up then we can all catch some sleep."

Sam went to start with his father but one look at the man's face had him turning back to his bed, sense for once getting one over on stubborn. With a sigh Sam slipped back under the covers and put a hand under the pillow resting it on the postcards that lay there and let his thoughts drift to his ideas for his future which didn't include crappy apartments, bedbugs and bar fights.

tbc...


	19. Chapter 19

Hi folks

Sorry this is later than I thought but hope it was worth the wait. Hope you all had a nice Christmas, if you celebrate it, and that 2013 will be good to all of you. Story might be sliding slightly AU here, hope that's okay. Mary xx

-spn-

Dean was surprised when his dad came with him on the run for food in the morning, even more so when they stopped at the market rather than the nearest diner. He raised an eyebrow which his dad just shrugged off but Dean thought he already knew why he hadn't been sent on his own, and why they were shopping. Either John didn't trust him out on his own yet or what was more likely, with Sam in an 'I want to know' mood, maybe John needed to escape too and delay his return.

Dean could get with that sentiment.

"Go get some breakfast cereal for you and your brother and I'll get some stuff for lunch."

Dean wandered down the aisle pushing all thoughts of alleys and bars and brothers and angry dads from his head. He hummed to himself, head bobbing in time to the tune only he could hear. His eyes scanned the shelves for the Lucky Charms that his brother would complain about being too old for but would be pissed if he came back without.

Just as he finally reached his goal and reached for the box of cereal the lights above him dimmed momentarily and then movement at the end of the row caught his eye. The tune stuttered to a halt in his head and fell silent as he got a quick look at the guy who was walking towards him. His insides twisted when he realised that he recognised him.

Suddenly he glad that John hadn't sent him on this run on his own.

Walking towards him was the guy he had nightmares about, the one that he wished that he'd never gone in the alley with.

Fear curled up his spine but even as his body tensed for flight his mind flashed back freezing him to the spot where he stood. He could feel the cold and the darkness of the night even as he stood under the brightness of the fluorescents and just stared as he was approached.

_One more, just one more and then he could go home and wash away their touch. He could curl up in his bed and drift to sleep knowing that his bed and that of his brother were safe for another week._ _Rent paid, duty done._

_The guy walked by all the others, eyes only for Dean and he knew that he didn't want to go down the alley with his man. There was something about him that raised every hair on his body, had the hunter in him screaming to pull his colt and just put a bullet in him. _

_It was late though, Sam had been on his own too long already, and this could be his last chance at the money he needed for tomorrow. _

_Needs must, so he let the devil drive._

_The guy was talking to him as Dean got on with what he was getting paid for. Senses and mind shut down, it took a minute or two for him to get that it wasn't the usual words of encouragement falling from the man's lips. Dean realised that he had been unconsciously translating the words that the guy with him had been speaking. He couldn't understand what he was saying anymore now that he was actually concentrating on it, mind still stuck on the words he'd heard, but he knew that it was Latin. _

"_Where are your angels now..…", the words stuck in Dean's head, images of his mother filling his thoughts at them. He pushed those away violently, no place from them here in the filth and squalor that surrounded him. He pushed the guy away just as vehemently before a hand gripped his hair and hauled him to his feet. _

_The guy forced Dean back hard against the wall behind him and smiled, the little light that reached them seeming to turn his eyes jaundiced. "Maybe you and I can have a little more fun?," he whispered, stroking the side of the hunter's face. "What do you say to that?"_

"_Who…what are you?," Dean asked, eyes darting to the lit opening of the alley hoping someone else would come down and he wouldn't be alone._

"_Why, I'm a paying customer and I don't believe I've had what I wanted yet."_

_"Maybe not but you got what you paid for. You want anything else and you are shit outta luck!" The bravado in his voice had a definite waver to it and the guy smiled at him again, pinned him harder against the wall._

"_Maybe I want something I haven't paid for…."_

_Dean freed his colt from his waistband and stuck it in the guy's ribs. "We're done here! Get off me!"_

_Using his grip of the boy's hair he turned Dean's head to the side and touched his lips against the side of his face. "Oh I am far from done with you and you'll need a better, older, gun than that if you're going to be the one to put me down."_

_The guy let go of Dean, sorted himself and then dropped some money on the ground at his feet. A hand lifted his chin and he locked eyes with his customer, finger slipping the safety on the gun. _

"_Been a pleasure. Be seeing you around kid." With a chuckle the man turned his back on the young hunter and walked to the end of the alley. Dean waited until he was gone and then almost slumped down the wall, grabbed his money, and then booked without talking to anyone._

Dragging himself back from the memory Dean willed his feet to move now. He turned and tried to walk away but the man closed the gap too quickly. His touch was nothing more than a light circling of his wrist but it might as well have been a manacle. Dean stopped as if chained to the spot, a little prayer for his father to come looking for him drifting from his lips.

As if in answer to his son's plea John turned the corner just in time to see the guy catch hold of Dean's wrist. The stricken look on his son's face had him dropping the basket he was carrying and moving up the aisle.

John's hand drifted behind his back as he approached them.

"Dean? You okay?," he asked, fingers tightening on the grip of his gun. His son just stood there but the man moved in, whispering something else in Dean's ear while he stroked the boy's wrist and his words started his son trying to wriggle his hand free. Another whisper and Dean stilled again and John wasn't sure that it was under his own violation.

"Get your fucking hands off of my son!," he growled lowly.

The man lifted his eyes to John and for a moment he could have sworn that there was a sickly yellow sheen in them before he blinked and it was gone.

"Interesting choice of words there, seeing as Dean and I are already _intimately_ acquainted." With a smile he opened the hand ringing Dean's wrist, fingers brushing down the boy's side suggestively as he did, a smile contorting his features into something that had John reaching for Dean just as the boy started and almost leapt forward and straight into him.

The guy turned and walked away from them, hand trailing along the shelf edge as he did. When he got to the end of the aisle he stopped and turned, flashed John that smile again that had him pulling Dean in and behind him. "Should take better care of your boys John. Mind the company they keep and where they keep it." With that he disappeared round the end of the row.

"Wait here." John sprinted down to the bottom of the aisle and turned the corner slowly but the man was gone. Taking another check the hunter turned and marched down to his son who was leaning on the shelves, the box of Lucky Charms held now like a shield in front of him.

"Who the fuck was that?," John snarled at Dean.

His son didn't answer, just stood there, pale faced, with a shell shocked look gracing his features.

"Dean!"

Green eyes drifted up to look at him. "How'd he know your name?"

John shot him a confused look. "What?"

"He…..," Dean shot a look down the aisle, "…called you John. How'd he know that? Do you know him? "

"What?" The wheels in John's head where wheeling. "No, never seen him before in my damned life..."

"Is it him?," Dean all but whispered.

John paused as his son's words gelled with his churning thoughts of who their mystery guest was. "Son of a bitch! Stay here!," he almost yelled at Dean as he took off down the aisle. He ran up to and then out the door pausing at the entrance to check left and right and then scan the car park. The silence mocked him. "Son of a….," he muttered pushing back in past the clerk that had followed his hasty exit and had come to investigate.

"Problem?," the boy asked.

"You'd better believe it." John stomped off back in the direction of his son, who, when he turned the corner was still standing where he left him.

"Who was that? How did he know you? He did know you, right?"

Dean dropped his eyes to the floor and clutched the box of cereal tighter to his chest.

"Dean? Who was that?" John knew the answer; he just needed the confirmation that the thing that had killed Mary, because he knew what was who it had been, had touched his son.

"I knew there was something weird about him, I could feel it...I shoulda never…." Dean broke off in mid-sentence and scuffed his boot across the floor. "I thought he was gonna be trouble but I only needed a little more cash and I had my gun…"

John swallowed the bile rising in his throat, all thoughts of breakfast now long gone. "Define weird? What did he do?"

"He just….I thought he was going to try…," Dean looked off to the side, breathing harsh as he remembered. "He was speaking Latin…mentioned angels….."

"Jesus Dean. When were you going to tell me this? When was he speaking Latin? And why the hell didn't you say something!"

"I would have, normally, but then I'd have needed to have told you where I met him….."

John wanted to scream. Bastard would have known that Dean wouldn't have, couldn't have told him about their 'meeting',

Dean raised his eyes slowly. "I had my gun out and if he hadn't of walked away…..I swear…"

"Like that could have stopped him," John hissed at his son instantly regretting it as Dean paled even further than the hunter thought possible. He watched his son ease the fingers of one hand off the box he was clutching and wipe at his face as he fought the wave of sickness that hit him.

Dean tried not to think what could have happened in the alley, more than he had been worried about at the time, much more if this guy was who they thought.

The feel of his father's hand on his back steadied him but he couldn't bring himself to look up into his eyes, kept his own dropped to the floor as he waited for his stomach to settle.

John's hand disappeared and Dean heard him turn and head for the front of the store. "Get the basket," he shot back at his son.

"Now Dean!," he roared when there was no sound of any movement behind him.

Dean snatched the basket up from the floor and scuttled after his father.

-spn-

"Forget school, we're leaving." Both Bobby and Sam's heads came up from the journal that they were studying.

"Why?" Sam asked.

"Because I said so," John growled back at him. "Dean, load up the car. Bobby a word." With that he stepped back outside and headed to the other room.

"What happened?" Both Bobby and Sam asked the same question of Dean at the same time.

"Dunno. Something spooked him at the store." He didn't look at either of them, just made his way over to the table and started loading the small number of weapons on it into one of the duffles.

"Looks as if it spooked more than just your daddy. You okay?" Bobby's hand came to rest on Dean's shoulder but the younger man just shrugged it off.

"You'd better go talk to him," the boy muttered not looking up from his task.

Bobby stood for a moment before sighing and turning for the door. Sam pounced the second it was closed. "What happened?"

"Nothing. You better grab some breakfast if you want something to eat 'cos I don't think that we're going be stopping between here and wherever we're going."

"Dean….," Sam started but was cut off as his brother turned and snarled at him.

"Get your breakfast!"

Startled the younger boy backed off, hesitating for only a minute more before he muttered an obscenity under his breath and then snatched the grocery bag up and stomped into the kitchen area.

Dean zipped the bags and escaped outside while his brother was occupied. Throwing the bags into the trunk he slammed it shut and then leant on it, ignoring the rain that soaked him through in seconds. He nervously scanned the area as the feeling he was being watched crawled over him.

The sound of a muffed but heated discussion in the room currently occupied by his father and Bobby drifted to him on the stiff breeze and he was grateful of the white noise to calm his nerves.

He still jumped as the door of the apartment flew open and John barrelled out. "Where's your damn brother? Why aren't you watching him?" Not waiting for an answer he disappeared inside the other room only to reappear moments later with an angry Sam.

"You drive up ahead with your brother, head for the salvage yard. Bobby and I will be right behind you." He walked up to Dean. "You keep it tight you hear me. No drifting ahead. You got your phone?"

"Yes sir."

John turned to Sam. "In the car!"

Bobby appeared from the room ignoring John and marching up to the back of his truck. He threw his bag in the back and then climbed up. Moments later he was back with two shotguns and a towel in his hands.

"Here." He checked one was loaded and handed it, still opened, to Sam. "You have to stop for anyone or you see anything you don't like, apart from your daddy that is…"

John growled at him.

"….you shoot it. You got me? No questions. It's rock salt, not ammo, so it'll slow not kill." He tossed the towel at the boy. "And dry it."

Sam nodded and looked at his brother but Dean just headed round the car and slid into the driver's seat. He opened the other door and hopped into shotgun.

Bobby handed the other weapon to John and they both wordlessly climbed into the truck.

"You sure this is the thing you've been hunting?"

John turned, nodded curtly.

"Well lucky you, now you've found it and you've got no damned idea what to do with it do you?"

"Fuck you Bobby, I don't need to know what to do with it, I just need to know how to kill it." He paused. "Dean said on the way back here that it mentioned a gun, an old gun, one that might do the job. You heard anything about that?"

Bobby chuckled.

"Am I amusing you?"

"You really think I'm stupid John, don't you?"

"Can I plead the fifth?"

"Better, if you want to keep those good looks of yours." Bobby sighed. "I might have a lead for you on the very thing that can kill what killed your wife."

"I don't know what killed my wife Bobby so how the hell can you know what can kill it?"

"Old friend of mine, Daniel Elkins, I spoke to him today strangely enough about the very thing you're talking about. If anyone knows where it's at, it's him. Rumour has it that he had his hands on it in the seventies. Rumour also has it that it was stolen from his safe but he got it back. What isn't rumour though is that when I was speaking to him earlier, he was lying to me about knowing where it is."

"And?"

"It's a Colt. An old Colt." He paused. " The Colt of hunter legend. One that they say can kill anything." Bobby looked at his friend. "Should have told me you were already looking for it."

"What makes you think that I already knew about it before today?," John asked coyly as he kept his eyes on the windshield, watching his sons.

"Well Daniel called me because someone called John Winchester had contacted two friends of his enquiring about the whereabouts of a gun that he had been said to have. They of course, given your reputation for violence and anger, gave Daniel a heads up that you were enquiring about the gun's existence. He knows that I look after your boys now and again and so he called me to see if you really were the maniac his friends were portraying you as."

"And of course, you set him straight."

"Yup, guy's probably in Canada by now."

"Funny…." John tapped the gun on his lap. "Do you believe it's real?"

"I hear a lot of tales of miracles and wonder John. Most of them are just that but this gun…..well, Sam Colt did build it but whether it still exists or that it does what they say, I don't know."

"So it is real?" There was wonder in John's voice.

"So the story goes, but then some folks think the holy grail's real too but unless I see it with my own eyes, well until then it's just a story being passed round."

"Let's get the boys safe and I can go see if he wants to be more forthcoming in person."

"Mark him as an ex-friend then shall I?," Bobby grumbled.

-spn-

Dean fumbled the keys, dropping them in the foot well of the car. Cursing he reached down for them aware that his brother was staring at him. He snagged the keys and jammed them into the ignition. The engine roared to life and he dropped her into gear. Glancing in the rearview mirror he eased her forward and out onto the road checking that Bobby had followed. He relaxed as the older hunter pulled out behind him.

He opened the old junker up, wishing that it was the more powerful, smooth Impala under his right foot. He missed the security and comfort that the old car afforded instead of this 70's non-descript Ford.

"Are you going to tell me what happened that freaked Dad so badly?," Sam asked in a quiet voice.

Dean shot him a quick look.

"Never mind," his brother sighed, settling down against the door and casting his gaze out.

"There's was this guy at the store….."

Sam turned and waited. Patience was something he could manage with his brother on occasion and this was one time he knew he'd need it.

"…he…Dad thinks it might be the guy that…..the thing…"

Sam bit his lip, tried not to prompt his brother.

Dean was staring out the windshield but Sam wasn't sure that his brother was actually seeing the road "…..he had these eyes…"

Chills crept up Sam's skin. "Eyes?" He couldn't help himself, visions of the strange guy in the bus station flashed in front of him.

"Yeah."

"Were they a funny colour?"

The car swerved as Dean turned sharply to his brother and took the car with him. Righting it he kept his eyes on the road. "You've seen him," he accused. "Where? And why the hell didn't you say!"

"You turned up just as I saw him and I haven't thought about him until you mentioned his eyes just now."

"Some hunter you're going to be.."

"Well if you and dad would keep me in the loop a little…,"

Dean sighed and raised his hands in surrender before gripping the wheel again. "Where did you see him?"

"There was a guy in the bus station that I was sure was watching me and when I looked at him it was as if his eyes shone yellow for a moment. I thought it was just the light. He was going to come over but then you turned up and he left when he saw you." Sam tapped a finger on the wood of the barrel of the gun on his lap. "Who is he?"

"Dunno."

It was Sam's turn to sigh. "So who does Dad think he is?"

Dean closed his eyes for a minute and then forced them open as yellow filled his vision. "Mom," he whispered so low Sam had to strain to hear.

"Mom?," the younger boy repeated. "He finally found who he was looking for?"

Dean snorted softy. "Think it found us. Don't worry Sammy, Dad'll know what to do."

It was Sam's turn to snort. "Yeah, sure he does."

"He does," Dean almost shouted at his brother with conviction in his voice.

"Yeah?" Sam dropped the shotgun onto his knees and folded his arms. "Okay Mr father knows best, so why are we running then?"

The question hung unanswered in the air between them.


	20. Chapter 20

Don't faint, yes, this is an actual update! I am still living lol xx

I haven't edited this so I apologise for any mistakes and if you see anything weird, please let me know x

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><p>Dean was grateful to the thing in the alley for one thing, it had stopped his brother nagging to find out what he'd done to incur the wrath of their father; for now at least anyway.<p>

He eased the speed up on the junker as far as he dared, the engine sounding its distress as the needle went above eighty. Sam was quiet beside him, the way his fingers were drumming on the shotgun the only sign that it was his brother's brain that was in overdrive at the moment. Dean dreaded when that would move to Sam's mouth and he would be stuck with a car load of questions and no answers. At least none he could give his brother.

His respite was to prove brief.

"So how did this thing know who you were? It's been following us hasn't it?"

"I don't know Sam."

"Does dad know what it is?"

"I don't know Sam."

There was a huff.

Dean sighed.

"Does Bobby know how to kill it?"

"I don't know Sam."

"If it's a demon, _can_ you kill it?"

"I don't know Sam.

"You don't know much, do you?"

"So my teachers keep telling me every time they fail me."

That got another huff. "Maybe there's an exorcism that'll work on it."

"Well if there is, Bobby's the man to be with. Just think, you can spend hours pouring through his books looking for it. Geek nirvana."

"Jerk and don't you mean we…."

"We what, bitch?"

"_We_ can spend hours Dean."

Dean shot Sam a look. "Oh no, your Latin's better than mine."

"Oh no yourself, I know that you can read it every bit as well as I can, despite what you tell dad. And anyway, if that's not the case," Sam poked at his brother's arm, "you're the one that needs the practice."

"Not in this lifetime dude, I'm sure there'll be guns to clean or a car to fix up and I'll need to get the Impala checked over when Bobby's tow gets her to the yard. Anyway, research is your bag, not mine. You wanted to be included and be more part of the team didn't you?"

"There's no team in '_**I**_ do the research'."

"Now you're getting it," Dean grinned back at him.

Sam stuck the shotgun down the side of the seat and folded his arms. "I hate this," he muttered under his breath.

Dean rolled his eyes knowing that he shouldn't ask but doing it anyway. "Hate what? Research? Thought that was your favourite pastime after homework?"

"Need to actually be going to school to get homework," Sam grumbled.

Dean cast a quick glance over at his brother. "Is that what's biting your ass? Dude, we're running from the demon that killed Mom and you're moaning about missing school? Way to get your priorities straight there."

"I thought you didn't know what it was? I thought we weren't running!," Sam huffed. "Anyway, I don't want to hunt. I want to go to school so that I can get good grades and then…well then I want to go to college and get a real job."

"Hunting **is **a real job!"

"Yeah? Maybe for you but real jobs have these things called salaries and besides I don't see them lining up to be hunters at guidance."

Dean changed down gear and pulled round the slow moving car in front. "So what would you study at college? Hey, I know, how about pain in my brother's ass 101, because really, you'd ace that one!"

Sam crossed his arms and glared at his brother. "I'm going to study Law."

"Law?" Dean chuckled at that. "You switching sides on us there Sam? Joining the bad guys?"

"Not all lawyers are bad Dean."

"All the ones I've met are. Interfering know it all's that never listen to what you tell them and then just make up their own version of events. You remember the lady that tried to take us away from dad and all the lies she told?"

"It wasn't all lies."

"No, but she tried to screw him over."

"She thought we were abused and neglected, no idea why she could ever have thought that."

Dean punched him for the tone he said it in. "I can show you abused if you like."

"Got a mirror 'cos I can show you abused too you know."

"Drop it Sam. Okay? We do alright and dad does the best he can. As for college, it ain't gonna happen dude," Dean replied, albeit a little wistfully.

Sam bristled. "Why won't it?"

"Come on Sam. People like us don't get to be lawyers bro'. We get the shit jobs, you know, the ones no one else really wants."

"What, like hunting?" Sam stared out of the window. "Well maybe people like you don't, but I'm not gonna get stuck in a crap job, especially _**this**_ crap job."

"People like me?" Dean had hurt in his voice when he answered. "Glad you think so highly of my efforts to keep us fed here when dad's not around Sam." He looked down briefly and rubbed a mud stain on his knee thinking how it had got there. Maybe, he mused, Sam aiming high and wanting out wasn't such a bad idea after all. "Dad would have a fit," he said eventually. "He'd never allow it."

Sam glared at him. "Allow it? Allow what? I can go to college without his permission you know."

"You'd do that?" Dean shot him a look, eyebrows raised. "You'd just up and leave him to this fight on his own?"

Sam sighed as his brother sided with their father again. "It's his fight, not mine, besides he's got you. What does he need me for?"

"It's us he's doing this for…..and for Mom."

"Mom? Mom? Do you think for one moment that she would want us to be doing this?" Sam gestured at the car they were in. "Travelling and running all the time?"

"She would want us to stay together, to help him, to be a family."

Sam snorted. "Well she isn't here and I can't believe that if she was she would want us to be trailing the country in a car, sleeping in crappy motels and starving to death."

"No she wouldn't but she's not here Sam and we're all he's got. This….," Dean copied his brother's gesture of moments before. "..is all he's got."

"Well it's not all I'm going to have!" With that he hauled a book out of his bag and stuck his nose in it.

"Definitely no I in team," Dean sighed and turned the music up.

They hadn't gone far when the phone rang. "We're stopping," Dean informed his brother.

"Why?"

"Always with the questions, questions, questions Sammy. Dad needs to pee okay?" Dean spun the car hard into the car park of the diner they were stopping at and into a space, throwing his younger brother against the door as he did.

"Why do you always have to be an ass?, "Sam asked, righting himself. He looked down at the shotgun and then at his brother, the question he had clear in his eyes.

"Put in on the backseat and cover it with your jacket," Dean said with a long suffering sigh.

"But it's raining…."

Dean scowled at his brother and then wriggled out of his own jacket. "Fine, put it on the back seat and cover it with my jacket." He threw the garment at his brother's head and got out to be greeted by John.

"Where's your damn jacket Dean?"

"On the back seat." He looked at his father.

"Oh," John answered, getting the meaning. "Well get inside before you get that cold back." He herded his companions towards, and then in, the diner door. "Sam, go sit with your brother and Bobby. I'll be a minute." With that he strode off in the directions of the rest rooms.

"Someone not go before we left and then leave it too long?," Sam asked cheekily earning a good natured cuff from Bobby.

"He was gonna just pee in a bottle but not in my truck with another thousand miles to go." The old hunter watched both boys eye the menu. "You kids hungry? Figure we could all use some food what with skipping breakfast." He picked it up and handed it to Dean.

"Oh god yes, I'm starving." Sam grabbed the menu from his brother.

"Hey! You had breakfast and I was looking at that"

Sam stuck his head inside ignoring his brother's huff of annoyance. "Ooh, this looks good…."

"See," Dean prodded the back of it. "Born research geek."

A shaggy fringe appeared at the top of the menu card. "Bite me. Besides, you need to be able to read it to order from it," he informed his brother sticking his tongue out as he did.

"Oh really, bitch?" Dean leant back and caught the waitress' eye. "No I don't." The woman was on her way over almost immediately, straightening her hair as she did.

"Oh, good grief," Sam muttered into his prized menu.

"Hey…..Amanda." Dean smiled at the woman and Sam knew that his brother was going to get whatever he wanted, even if it wasn't on the menu. "So can you recommend what's good here since my _little _brother is a menu hog?"

She listed a few dishes and they all chose something, Sam deliberately choosing from his coveted menu. Dean ordered John a house special burger and watched as the waitress walked away. He smiled sweetly at his younger brother. "School is highly over rated when it comes to getting fed."

"Yeah? Well your pretty will fade one day you know, and then you'll starve."

"Yeah? Brains fade too you know, and less of the pretty, geek boy. Ruggedly handsome are the words I think you're looking for."

Sam and Bobby both snorted at that.

Dean ignored them and cast a glance out the window, freezing as he did. Bobby followed his gaze and watched as the car pulled into the space next to the boy's junker and the cop got out.

"Did you cover it?," Dean hissed across the table at his brother.

"Of course I did!," Sam hissed back at him but his face paled as the cop examined their car before finally turning in the direction of the diner.

Cold air spiralled in behind him and all eyes turned to watch as he strode to the counter and questioned their waitress. Bobby caught the briefest glint of silver, Dean's knife sliding free from his shirt and disappearing under the table, and then the man was standing looming over them. Not happy with the situation either the older hunter pulled his flask of holy water out from the folds of his body warmer and dropped it between his legs. He was loosening the cap as the cop smiled at them.

"That car out there? Does it belong to one of you boys?"

"It's mine," Dean answered, tension leaking into his voice. "Is there a problem officer?"

Eyeing him for the tone of the question, the trooper pushed back his hat and let the smile drop. "Not unless you'd like there to be one son. Back tyre's looking a little the worse for wear, just thought I'd mention it."

"There's a spare in the trunk, we'll get it changed. Thanks." Bobby gave the man a nod as he spoke, relaxing a little as he did.

The cop turned, stopped, and then turned back again. "You folks aren't local, are you?"

"No sir," Bobby offered. "From South Dakota. Just came down to fetch my cousin and his boys, they had a spot of car trouble." He nodded at the junker. "Needed a couple of parts replacing."

"I'll bet," the man muttered. "Had a coupla accidents out on the twenty five today, it's gonna be closed most of the day so the other roads are gonna be busier. You drive carefully now."

"We will. Thanks."

They watched as the trooper stopped over at the counter, taking a seat and ordering a coffee. Their waitress arrived with the coffee disappointment in her eyes when Dean didn't flirt with her this time, his own eyes locked on the restroom door instead.

When she left he stood. "Dad's been awhile, gonna just go get him."

John appeared out of the restroom as Dean reached them, a small conversation passing between them, Dean nodding at the trooper, before they headed back together.

"You guys order," John asked as he waited for Dean to slide into the booth.

"Ruggedly handsome here ordered you a burger," Sam informed his father dryly.

"Shut it runt." Dean snatched the menu from his brother's hands and hit him hard with it causing his brother to try to wrestle it back from him.

"Behave."

The tone of that one word had Dean putting the menu back and both boys folding their hands on the table.

John forced Dean over with his hip and sat down, effectively separating his two sons. They sat in silence until the waitress brought their food, each of them lost in their own thoughts and worries.

Bobby cast Dean a look, watched as the boy pushed his food around his plate until he realised that both older men were watching and only then starting to eat. Sam had produced a book from his pocket and had started reading. The book mark was one of the postcards, the Stanford one, that he had acquired from Flagstaff. Bobby hoped John wouldn't catch sight of it, the atmosphere between the man and his son a little strained at the moment to say the least. No need to add fuel to flame the fire.

The meal passed quietly, John and Bobby discussing options to get round the closed road and the traffic, Sam reading his book and Dean slowly and methodically eating his food while staring out the window.

"I need to hit the head," Dean offered to the table, waiting until John stood before easing out of the booth and heading for the restrooms.

John's phone rang as he sat down, a frown creasing his face at the 'withheld' that appeared on his screen. He cast a quick look at Sam and then answered it.

"Hello?"

"Dean?" The voice was young, hesitant.

"This is John Winchester, who is this?"

"It's Max. Is Dean there?"

John stood, went to head for the door and then stopped. "What do you want him for?"

"There's this guy…he….he…..I'm at this motel and I don't know where I am or how I got here….." There was a sniff of air and John knew the boy was crying.

"Is he still there?" John glanced to the restrooms, frowned when he realised that Dean hadn't come back out.

"No….no…..he said that he had something to do…I can't get out, he's broke the lock on the door and the window doesn't open….can you help me? Please?"

"Do you have any idea where you are Max?"

"Motel looks abandoned from what I can see out the window, but it's dirty…"

"Can you break the window?"

"There only the bed, this phone and a light in the room, I don't have anything heavy enough besides….." He paused and John sighed, checked the restroom door again.

"Besides….," he prompted impatiently.

"I don't….I….don't…" The boy let out what sounded like a sob. "He took all my clothes."

"Shit." John watched as Bobby and Sam stopped talking and looked at him. ""What did this guy look like Max? Can you remember?" He was stalling, trying to think what the hell he was going to say to Dean, or to Sam for that matter. That's when he noticed the trooper was missing. He turned and took in the car still parked in the car park and that got him moving.

"Max I got the phone number you're on, I've save it in the phone and I'll call you straight back when I've got Dean okay. Five minutes tops I promise."

"Okay." It didn't sound okay but John had other things on his mind now.

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><p>He heard Dean as he pushed the door opened. "I said get the fuck off me."<p>

John raised his gun and stepped inside, locking the door behind him. Dean was pinned to the wall; the trooper had a leg shoved between his son's and a hand on his neck. "Glad you could join the party John. I just knew that you'd head for Singer's, so predictable. Going to hide amongst the rest of the broken down wrecks that society doesn't want?," it chuckled. "But you see, I wasn't finished with your boy here though, although his friend doesn't have merits of his own."

"Max? Are you talking about Max?" Dean started to struggle again. "What did you do to him you son of a bitch?!"

"Mind that mouth Dean or I might have to mind it for you." It ran a finger over Dean's lips and John snapped. He charged towards them only to be brought up short by a flash of power that hit him and knocked him into the sinks. "You on the other hand need to mind your temper. I thought Max might have distracted you a tad longer; let me finish with your boy here." Dean groaned as it pinned him harder, yellow flashing in its eyes as it did. "Do what you're good at Dean," it smiled evilly at John. "Open wide."

John watched as the smoke started to curl slowly from the trooper's mouth towards his son's. Dean's struggles grew as it brushed his lips and trickled inside. He started to cough, choking on the intrusion and then the demon's eyes flared again and it touched its lips to Dean's own and drew back inside the trooper. "Well, well," it muttered. "It seemed that I misjudged your importance in the scheme of things Dean-o. Should have finished you the night I killed your mother, slit your throat in your sleep." It turned to John. "I was going to," it teased cocking its head and smiling at the elder Winchester before turning back to Dean. "You were so sweet lying there, with your thumb in your mouth and that goddamn piece of shit angel watching over you." It cupped Dean's chin, forced his head up and locked eyes with him. "Mary couldn't wait though. Maybe it was some six sense that woke her and so I didn't have time to play with you kiddo. Shame but still, think on what I would have missed out on? Perhaps we can do a repeat show for your daddy here Dean, get you down on your knees and show him just how good a whore his son really is?"

"John!" Bobby's call from the door and the rattle of the handle caused them all to turn in that direction.

"Always interrupted when it's getting to the good part," the demon sighed. It dropped Dean, the younger man passing out cold as he was released and strode over to John. "You can't protect them from me John."

"You stay the fuck away from my sons."

It walked back over to Dean, leant down and brushed a hand over his side before turning its head back to face John. "I could have killed him in that alley John, defiled him in ways you can't even imagine and left him for you to find but I need him for the same thing you do. I need a guard dog for Sam. Someone that will watch over my boy and keep him safe, keep him fed…I mean it's not like I can rely on you to do that can I?"

"I'm going to kill you."

It stood up and kicked Dean in the ribs. "Like father, like son. Empty threats without the Colt though John and you don't know where it is."

"I'll find it!"

"I'm sure you will but not before I claim what's mine. Not before Sam is mine."

"I'll see him dead first!"

It chuckled at that, ignored the pounding on the door and walked over to John, lifting his feet off the floor. "So, why isn't he then? You know about the children John, I know you do. So why is sweet little Sammy not lying in a grave with a bullet in his head?"

John bit his lip and struggled in the thing's grip.

"No answer?" It cast a look at Dean. "He'd never forgive you, would he? No matter what you told him about Sam, Dean would never let you kill his brother. He'd die first. So are you just going to do what you always do John and leave it to Dean to clean up behind you?"

It dropped him to the floor and walked over to the door. "If it comes to that, if he has to kill his brother, if he could actually pull the trigger, how long after it do you think he put the gun in his own mouth?" it laughed at him and let its eyes glow. "Gonna show you how easy it would be to take him out John. Watch this space."

Bobby fell in the door as it was opened and the demon only pushed him out the way.

The elder hunter got to his feet and hurried over to John who was getting to his. "Sam…."

"He's still at the table; I doubt it would try anything in a crowded diner."

"Dean?" John hurried over to his prone son, lifting him off the soiled floor and laying him up against the wall. "Dean?"

Green eyes flickered, shut and then opened with a look of panic that had John checking over his shoulder.

"Sam…" Dean was trying to get his feet under him, pushing John away in the process.

"Easy Dean." John looked over his shoulder. "Can you get Sam? Put him in the truck with you, I'll ride with Dean."

Bobby nodded and left.

John eased Dean back up onto his feet, steadied him against the wall with a gentle hand. "Are you okay? What did it want? Did he hurt you?"

"I'm fine."

John was checking him over, patting him down and Dean gripped his dad's arms to stop him. "I'm okay, really. What did it do to Max?"

Now that he was sure that his brother was okay Dean's concern had switch to his friend.

"Shit, I need to call him back." Pulling his phone from his pocket John called up the last number and hit dial. It was answered on the first ring.

"Dean?"

"Let me talk to him." Dean held out his hand and then snatched the phone when his dad hesitated too long in passing it to him. "Max? How you doing?"

"Dean, can you come get me. I think he's going to come back and I can't get out…"

Dean looked at his dad. "Where are you?" He pushed off the wall, staggered and was rescued from face planting by his dad's hand on his arm. Shrugging him off, Dean squared his shoulders and headed for the door.

"I don't know Dean."

"Hey, stay calm alright, we're gonna find you. It's what we do remember? We help people."

"Yeah, okay. It's a motel Dean but it looks like it's been closed for a while."

"Did he take you there in a car?" Dean opened the door and stepped out into the car park.

"Yeah."

"How long did you drive Max?"

"I don't know, he was talking to me and then I felt kinda weird and then I woke up in this room and he's taken my clothes and….and….." Max started to cry and Dean felt like joining him. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and wiped his nose on his sleeve aware now that Bobby and Sam were both watching him from the truck. "Do you remember anything from the road trip Max?"

"I don't know…wait….we were on the forty…"

"How long?"

"I don't know Dean." And yeah, now Max was really crying and Dean wanted to hunt this thing down and put a bullet through its brain, just for the hell of it. Max sobbed in his ear and Dean felt his own tears trail his face. "He was weird, he had….he had these eyes."

Dean's spine turned to steel and his blood to ice, knowing that Max was going to confirm his worst fear. "What about his eyes Max?"

"I thought it was the street lights," Max sobbed.

"Max, what about his eyes?"

"They…..they were yellow."

Dean dropped the phone to his side and dropped his head back on his shoulder. "Goddamn son of bitch!," he screamed to the skies.

"What it is?," John asked from behind him.

"It wasn't lying. It's got Max. We gotta save him." Dean turned to his dad, raising the phone as he did. "Max," he said into. "We're coming for you, you hear me?"

"How?"

"I'll find you. I found Sam didn't I?"

"Yeah."

"So I'll find you, I promise." He turned to his dad. "I need to hang up now but I'll call you back as soon as I can."

"Dean…." There was a noise in the background.

"Max…." The line went dead and Dean quickly tried to dial it back. It was engaged.

He looked up into his dad' eyes, panic lighting his own. "We need to find him."

John held out his hand and took the phone from his son. "No."

Dean frowned. "What do you mean no?" Anger coloured his tone.

"It's what it wants."

"It's what we do," Dean countered.

"I need you safe, I need Sam safe."

"Yet you put my safety after that of strangers," Dean answered coldly. "Risk me to save them."

John sighed, sought for the right thing to say. "It's not him he wants."

"No, it's me! He took him because he's my friend, because he couldn't get me! Are you going to just let him die without at least trying to save him?"

"It's not that, but it's a trap Dean, it's got to be."

"Well I say spring it then!" He turned for the door of the car and John dragged him back.

"No."

Dean pushed at his dad's chest. "What is it? Is he not worthy of the great John Winchester's time because he's whore because really.." He gestured at himself and John lost it.

It was the sting in his hand that told John he'd slapped his son. Dean's head was turned to the side, the mark of his fingers clear on his son's face. His remorse was instant. "Dean…" He reached out but his son reeled back from him. "God Dean, I'm sorry…..but Dean….he's dead already, you know that."

"No I don't."

"You said it yourself, it doesn't want him it wants us."

"Then let's give it what it wants then!" Dean screamed the words at him. "Let's do what we're supposed to do. Hunt it, save people….save Max. Please dad…."

"Get in the car Dean, we're going to Bobby's."

"No."

"You don't even know where he is!"

John wished he could take back his words at the stricken look on his son's face. "But it's my fault it took him, he was nice to me, looked out for me, I can't just shrug my shoulders and walk the fuck away."

John sighed. "You might have to Dean." His son turned his back on him. "I'll give you a minute; I need to speak to Bobby."

The door of the junker squeaked as Dean opened it and dropped down on the driver's seat. John had intended to drive but maybe letting Dean do it would stop his son mulling on the fate of his friend. John had just reached the truck when the engine was cranked hard on the car and as he turned he knew what was about to happen.

He turned in time to see Dean throw the car out of the space and then stood frozen as his son left a streak of black rubber on the tarmac as he screamed out the car park and onto the main road.

"Get your ass in here!" It was Bobby's voice that broke his stupor as the truck door was flung opened. He scrambled into the back and the other hunter tore out after Dean.

John's phone rang.

"I didn't expect you to hand deliver him to me on a plate John," the demon chortled. "Still at least you'll get to find his friend for him. You want to see how easily I can take your boys away from you? Watch this."

John sat forward as his phone went dead. "Drive faster."

TBC (honest) :)


End file.
